


Bruise Me

by kingsatanthegay



Series: Bruise Me [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Gay Keith (Voltron), Kidnapping, M/M, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, Texan Keith (Voltron), Trans Female Character, Trans Keith (Voltron), Trans Male Character, Trans Pidge | Katie Holt, Violence, everyone who drinks it is of age tho, it's obvious when it's coming, shiro and allura are platonic soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:31:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingsatanthegay/pseuds/kingsatanthegay
Summary: Soulmate AU where soulmates feel each other's pain.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I meant to write more for the Dogwalker AU, but ended up with this instead.  
> Just a warning, there will be some potentially triggering stuff in later chapters, such as self-harm, kidnapping and violence. Hopefully nothing too graphic, but shit will get intense.

Lance had often lay awake at night, his muscles aching and knuckles bruising and splitting, wondering what his soulmate could possibly be up to. Were they intentionally causing him and themselves pain? Or did they tend to forget that he could feel it too?

He thought maybe his soulmate was depressed. They used to carve marks into themselves--their wrists, their thighs--and had landed Lance in the counsellor's office on more than one occasion. He thought maybe they'd gotten into boxing instead as a way to calm their thoughts.

He didn't mind, really, so long as it was helping them. He could bear what must be a small amount of pain in proportion to what his soulmate must be feeling, if it meant they were getting better.

Today was no exception. When he sat up and stretched, his arms screamed in protest. He flinched in sudden pain, cradling his arms to his chest.

He made it through his classes--barely--and met up with his friends in the quad. Lance buried his hands in his pockets just before he reached them, not wanting anyone to see the marks his soulmate had given him.

"Hey, Lance, come see this sick bruise Hunk's soulmate gave him!" Pidge called, waving him over.

She was right, it was one magnificent bruise. Situated on his shoulder, it was marbled yellow, green and blue with a bit of red in the middle.

"Duuude," Lance breathed, marvelling at it. He fought the urge to show the two his own bruises, not wanting to hear what they had to say about them.

Hunk, however, was not impressed. On the contrary, his eyebrows were drawn together as he gazed worriedly at his multicoloured arm. "I just worry, y'know? What if she's in trouble or something? It's not normal to have this many bruises all the time, is it?"

Pidge patted his back. "Hunk, my man, she's _fine_. She probably just has a cool job, like an athlete or something."

Hunk sighed, rolling his sleeve back down. "I hope you're right." He glanced up and brightened considerably. "Oh, hey, it's Shay! And Keith."

Shay gave a small smile and wave. "Hey, Hunk. Guys," she said quietly. Lance thought there had been something off about her lately, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

"You gotta see this wicked bruise Hunk has!" Pidge exclaimed, moving to roll Hunk's sleeve back up.

Hunk caught the alarmed look in Shay's eye and stilled Pidge's hands. "I don't think she wants to see it, Pidge."

Pidge dropped her hands, pouting. "Alright, fine."

"What's this about a bruise?" Keith asked, finally reaching them.

"Hunk's put it away for the day," Pidge grumbled.

"Aw, shame. Hey, Shay," he said with a smile.

Shay jumped--barely enough for anyone to notice--and squeaked, "Hi!" She quickly glanced away, at the ground, wringing her hands.

"Hey, you wanna come hang out?" Hunk asked her.

She looked up at him and reluctantly shook her head. "Sorry, I have to get home..."

Hunk nodded in understanding. "Alright. Want me to walk you?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you." She waved again and left.

As she walked away, Lance finally realized what seemed off about her: she'd lost weight--not a significant amount, but enough to be noticeable. And considering she'd already been a healthy weight, Lance thought it was safe to assume she was now underweight. But he just couldn't wrap his head around how she'd managed to lose that much weight in such a short amount of time. Starvation and constant exercise? She was a gymnast, after all.

"Lance!"

He snapped out of his trance and found himself faced with three incredulous pairs of eyes.

"What?"

Keith sighed. "Hunk has some new recipes for us to try out."

Lance nodded eagerly. He was always down to try out new food, especially Hunk's food. "Um, yeah! Do you even have to ask?"

 

Stomachs pleasantly full, Lance, Keith and Pidge headed back to their rooms. The two boys made sure Pidge got in OK, then made their way to their own dorms.

Lance and Keith lived on the same floor, but had ended up with different rooms.

As they neared Keith's room, Lance felt a twinge of jealousy. Why would he feel jealous? He barely even liked Keith. But as Keith opened the door and he and his roommate shared a smile, Lance felt it again.

Keith and his roommate--Rolo--weren't soulmates, Lance knew that much, but he couldn't help but feel there was something else going on there.

Keith turned back and said bye to Lance, but Lance barely heard him. He kept walking, hands deep in his pockets, until he reached his own room.

Lance's roommate was nice and all, when he wasn't going berserk talking about his conspiracies and calculations. Every now and then Lance thought that Slav would have made a better roommate for Pidge, and Allura for him. He'd even brought it up one time, not sure if he meant for Allura to hear, but boy had she heard. Before he knew what was happening, Lance had found himself ass up in a dumpster.

He knew Allura had meant for it to deter him, but it had done quite the opposite. It had fuelled his interest in her for a while after that. After she and Shiro got together, though, he knew he had to let go.

As he shut the door with a sigh, Slav glanced up from his mess of complicated homework to remark, "You seem quite perturbed. My calculations tell me there is an 87.68% chance that you are unhappy due to jealousy."

Lance shot the short man a glare, not bothering to respond. He hated how spot-on Slav was when it came to reading people, despite the fact that he was a shut-in and rarely ever spoke to anyone.

Lance's lack of an answer was all Slav needed to understand. "Ah, I see. It's the Mullet Man again, isn't it?"

Lance felt his face heat up--both in anger and embarrassment. He couldn't let this guy think he had a crush on Keith, no siree, because he would definitely tell Keith. Something like, "But if he doesn't know how you feel, this bad thing will happen, which causes this other bad thing, and before you know it we've got World War III!"

"No, it's not the _Mullet Man_ ," Lance spat, putting as much contempt as he could muster into his voice. He knew he had to lie to get Slav to stop reading him and looking into his emotions. He blurted the first thing that came to mind. "It's... Allura and Shiro. I'm just bummed out about not finding my soulmate yet." It wasn't completely a lie, at least not the soulmate part.

All Slav had to say in reply was, "Hmm." With that, he turned back to his work, leaving Lance to do as he pleased.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edited 20/07/18 to remove allura's & shiro's romance

"Nonononono! Get away! Help! Someone help meeeee!"

Frantic screams prompted Lance to open his bedroom door with wide eyes. "Slav? What's wrong?" he exclaimed, looking around the room to find the source of the screaming. Slav was pressed into a corner, surrounded by a mess of papers, and his eyes were squeezed shut. "Slav!" Lance kneeled down in front of him.

The smaller man looked up at Lance with fearful eyes. He raised a shaking finger and pointed to something behind Lance. Lance turned, slow as he could, to see what had freaked the poor man out so much. His gaze landed on the perpetrator, and he sucked in a sharp breath. He pressed himself flat against the wall next to Slav and let out an accidental shriek.

The door was flung open and there stood Keith, breathing heavily and looking confused. "The  _hell_ are y'all screaming bout in here?" he demanded, furious. Then he noticed the centipede. He sighed. "OK, _really_?" was all Keith said before he picked up the centipede--with his  _bare hands_ \--and chucked it out the window. 

Lance jumped up and squeezed Keith around the middle, feeling his own stomach tighten. What was that about? Ignoring it, he said, "You're my saviour, Keith!"

Keith only rolled his eyes, extracting himself from Lance's grip. "You're such children." With that, he left the room.

Slav's eyes met Lance's, and before the former could calculate Lance's emotions, Lance fetched his toiletries bag and huffed, "Going to the washroom."

 

* * *

 

 Keith shut his door with a sigh. He was done, so very done, with Lance and his bullshit. Rolo glanced up from where he was Internet browsing on the couch.

"What's up? Why the sighing?" 

Keith shook his head. "Nothing, just... Lance."

Rolo nodded, understanding. "Ah, of course. What's he done this time?" He told Rolo about the centipede. Rolo chuckled. "I've got to say, I can definitely see him doing that. Although I am surprised he didn't even try to put on a brave face when you walked in."

He gave an amused grunt in response and sat down next to Rolo, leaning his head against the other man's shoulder. "Nah, for once he didn't. He was just all, 'you're my saviour!'" Keith said with a laugh.

"Hey!" Rolo exclaimed, indignant. "I thought you were  _my_ saviour!" He pulled Keith into his lap and kissed him. Keith's stomach twisted uneasily.

Keith smiled against Rolo's mouth. "Never said I wasn't."

 

* * *

 

 "Ugh," Pidge groaned, clutching her head as if she thought her brain would explode. "I need coffee, stat. This asshole decided to go out drinking all night, or some shit. Jesus, I don't think I've had a headache this bad since Lance realized how gay he was for--"

"Pidge!" Lance squeaked, face heating up. He cleared his throat. "That's not important right now. Coffee, you say? Now,  _that_ is important." He marched ahead, dutifully searching for a coffee shop.

Pidge rolled her eyes at him, then winced.

Hunk leaned in close to her and whispered, "Just for the record, are we thinking about the same person?"

She gave him a sly sidelong glance. "I'll tell you later," she snickered. "But first, coffeeeee...!"

They found a cheap cafe just off campus. Pidge nearly inhaled her first cup, and downed the next in a manner of seconds. Before anyone else had finished their first, she ordered a third.

"What?" Pidge demanded when she found them all staring at her. They all glanced away at once, mumbling excuses.

Suddenly Lance made a loud, offended noise, face flushing again. Hunk followed his gaze across the cafe, to where two familiar faces were sitting together. Hunk sighed. "Dude. When are you gonna get over it?"

Lance jerked to face him. "Um, excuse me? Over what? Keith? There's nothing to even  _be_ over! Just because he's out on a date with that sleezeball Rolo doesn't mean I'm jealous! Hunk, what are you even going on about?" he spluttered.

Shiro and Allura walked up to them and caught only that last part. It was enough. 

"Keith?" Shiro guessed. The group confirmed his suspicions.

Allura sat down, and Shiro patted her on the shoulder. "I'll go get us some coffee."

The two had found out they were soulmates only a couple years earlier. Shiro had been in a nasty car accident and lost his right arm. And Allura... had felt every second of it. When she heard about Shiro's accident, she'd put two and two together.

"Lance! Stop staring, it's rude," Hunk chastised.

His words barely registered, Lance was too focused on the couple across the room. They were just a tad too close for his liking. 

Pidge rolled her eyes again, this time without wincing. "Oh my god, Lance, why don't you just join them already? You're already there in spirit." She gave him a slight shove with her foot. He leapt away from her touch as if it seared him.

"Hey! Watch the nasty shoes, dude!" Lance wiped the dirt from his sweater sleeve angrily. Then he looked back over at Keith and McFaking It, steeling himself with a deep breath. "I'm goin' in." He marched over to the couple, acting nonchalant only as he neared them. He even went so far as to casually walk past their table and act all surprised when Keith said, "Lance? What're you doing here?"

Lance stopped walking and faced Keith. "Oh, hey, Keith! Didn't expect to see you here, buddy! I see you're on a date." He had to grind out that last bit through his teeth, forcing himself to keep smiling.

"Uh, yeah..." Keith exchanged a look with Rolo, who shrugged. "What about you? You on a date?"

"No, no, just here with some friends." He gestured vaguely behind him. When Keith waved, he knew the entire group was watching the interaction. "Trust me, you'd  _know_ if  _I_ was on a date. Cause then I'll have found my soulmate."

Keith rolled his eyes. "Really. Just because you haven't found them yet means you can't have a life?" He glanced at his hand, which was in Rolo's on the table.

"Of course  _you'd_ say that. You probably don't even believe in soulmates," Lance said bitingly. He hadn't meant for his words to come out sounding bitter.

Keith's free hand clenched into a fist. "Yeah? And what makes you say that?"

Lance could feel his own hands curling in on themselves, not quite tight enough to mark his palms in any way. "I don't know, maybe the fact that you've been dating this knotted ball of yarn for the past who knows how long, when there's someone out there who'll actually be good for you?"

"Yeah, and who'd you have in mind?" Keith scoffed. "You?"

Lance's face went slack, hands uncurling. "What? No! Why would you think that? Do you  _want_ it to be me or something?"

He saw Keith's face twitch momentarily into a strange expression. Then it was gone, all too quickly for Lance to read it. "Pff, no. Why in hell would I want that?" Rolo gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and his fist unclenched. 

Lance's heart dropped. Why was it doing that? He hadn't been hoping for a different answer. "Fine. See ya 'round, Keith." He walked morosely back to his own table and seated himself between Hunk and Pidge. He lay his hands palm-up on his knees as Pidge turned to him.

She opened her mouth to ask him how it went when she noticed the marks on his palm. "Hey, where'd you get those?"

His brow furrowed as he studied the little nail marks on his skin. "I don't know..." He made a fist and tried to get his nails to line up with the marks, but his fingers were too long and his nails curled way too high when he made the fist. He shrugged. "Maybe the 'mate was having a rough time."

Behind his line of sight, Hunk and Pidge exchanged a look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when you gotta write a Rolo x Keith scene for the drama and it just about kills you...


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this chapter is kinda late (understatement of the year)  
> sorry about that, life majorly got in the way between finals, projects and falling into blocks  
> but it's here now!!  
> hope you enjoy, hope it was worth the wait

Lance sits on the edge of his bed, palms turned up on his knees. He stares down at the odd nail marks embedded in his skin. Where had they come from? He knows he hadn't been clinching his fists _that_ hard.

Not for the first time, he curls his hands into fists again. And, once again, his fingers prove to be too long for his nails to line up.

It must've been his soulmate. He can't think of any other reason. They'd never done this before, though.

Maybe--

His thoughts are lost when someone pounds on the door.

"'S open," Lance calls, entering the living room just as Hunk bursts through the door, cradling his left arm to his chest.

His eyes are wild, hair mussed and his headband's almost come undone.

"Hunk!" Lance exclaims. "What's--"

"Lance, oh my god--my wrist!" Hunk thrusts out his arm, only to flinch and bring it back close to him. "My SM's done something to hers--WOW THAT HURTS." He flinches. In his worry, he'd accidentally squeezed his injured wrist.

"Slow down, buddy, take it from the top." Lance holds up his hands, motioning for Hunk to take it easy. "Actually, wait--lemme get you something for that."

He grabs some ice out of the freezer and brings it to Hunk, who's perched on the couch. "Thanks, man." Hunk inhales sharply through his teeth when the ice pack touches his wrist.

Lance takes a seat next to him, face pinched with worry. "OK, whenever you're ready, dude."

Hunk inhales deeply, and exhales slowly. "So, you know how my SM gets all these random bruises?" Lance nods. "And when she gets them, obviously I can feel it, too, cause I mean... yeah. This morning it woke me up; she got all these bruises all over her legs and stomach." Hunk gestures to his own legs, which Lance didn't noticed are discoloured. "That in and of itself is kinda weird. Usually she just gets one or two on her arm, you know? But that's not even the weirdest part. That's where this--" --he lifts his wrist-- "--comes into play. I think she must have fallen down or been pushed--I felt these... almost... _phantom_ hands on my shoulders right before my wrist... well... sprained itself, or whatever."

Finally he turns to Lance, whose lips are parted in shock. "Man, I'm worried about her. I don't think she getting all these injuries just because of her job. And I don't think the pushing was a one-time thing, either. I think--I think she might be in real trouble."

It took a moment for Lance to process everything that Hunk had told him, but when he did he shot up announced, "We need to find the others." And so they found themselves in their regular spot at the cafe with Pidge, Shiro and Allura. Allura's brow is creased with worry, Shiro looks pensive and Pidge... Pidge is loading up on espresso. When they give her a look, she shrugs and asks, "What? If we're gonna crack this I'm gonna need some caffeine in my bloodstream."

After taking a few more sips of coffee, Pidge leans back in her chair and steeples her fingers. "We are gathered here today to discuss the tragedy that is the life of Hunk's soulmate," she announces gravely.

"Pidge!" Shiro scolds sharply.

Pidge throws her hands up in a defensive pose. "Sorry, sorry, I'm just joking. We gotta find out what's up with Hunk's SM. We know so far that she's probably being abused. Or bullied--but god forbid your soulmate's a child."

 _"Pidge."_ One stern look from Shiro is all it takes to put a stop to Pidge's joking.

Pidge huffs, blowing her bangs out of her face. "That's all we know. She's being abused. Man," she sighs, rubbing a hand down her face, "this whole soulmate biz would be so much easier if it wasn't so _goddamn painful_." Shiro sends another warning glance her way. She waves her hands in incredulity, pulling a face as she corrects, "If it wasn't so _gosh darn painful_."

"We still need to do something!" Lance pipes up, brow creasing. "Did you miss the part about Hunk  _feeling_ when someone pushed her? Like, is that even a thing that happens, feeling something from your SM other than their pain?"

Pidge pursed her lips, mulling this over. Then she said, "I propose a hypothesis: in moments of extreme emotion, you can feel things that your SM feels. Things other than pain," she added dryly at Lance's flat stare.

Lance's brow furrows for a moment. Then he proclaims, "That's a brilliant hypothermia, Pidge! This is why we keep you around."

"Hypothesis," Pidge mutters under her breath. "It's a hypothesis."

"I think she must've been pretty scared, for Hunk to--" Suddenly Lance lurches forward, wrapping his arms around his stomach. His face is screwed up in pain, teeth grit against a strangled cry that threatens to leave his throat.

He feels Hunk place a comforting hand on his back. "Hey, you OK, man?" he asks, voice full of concern.

"I... I don't know, my stomach just suddenly... _squeezed_." For emphasis he clenches his fist.

Lance glances up to see the others giving him concerned looks. All, that is, but Pidge. She's wearing a knowing smirk as she says, "I guess Allura's no longer alone, if you catch my drift."

Everyone shares puzzled glances. Shiro is the first to catch on. He turns his gaze onto Lance, eyes full of compassion. "This doesn't change anything, Lance, you know that, right? You'll still be Lance to us."

Lance feels his brow furrow more than it had earlier. Why was Shiro talking to him like he had to Pidge when she'd... "Waitwaitwaitwaitwait." Lance holds his hands up in front of him, defending. "You guys think I'm--just because my stomach--?!" He stops himself.

Poor Allura still hasn't caught on. "Wait... Can someone tell me why I'm not alone anymore? And why I was alone in the first place?"

Pidge directs her smirk toward Allura. "You know... on the inside," she explains--or at least tries to. At Allura's further confusion, she tacks on, _"Chromosomically."_

Lance groans dramatically, throwing his hands up and using them to cover his burning face. Understanding dawns on Allura and her expression changes to one of surprise. "Ohhhh. _Ohhhhhhh._ "

Lance all but screams, "Guys! I--don't--have--a--uterus! Oh my _godddd_!"

"Guys. You know what this means, don't you?" Hunk interrupts Lance's outburst. "Lance's SM is on her period."

"Hunk, you don't know they're a she." Pidge gives him a flat stare.

"My bad, Pidge," he says apologetically. "Statement still stands. Now, all we need to do is find someone on their period."

Pidge snorts. "You think it's that easy? Allura," she says, turning to face the other girl, "how easily would you tell someone you're on your period?"

"Honestly, I wouldn't. Unless I really trusted them. Like Shiro." She pats his arm as she says this. Shiro looks conflicted, like he doesn't know whether to be flattered that he's so trusted, or disgusted at what information he's being entrusted with.

"Guys!" Lance cuts in, sorry to ruin the moment but needing to address the issue at hand. "Aren't we forgetting something? Something that's, you know, more important than who Allura tells she's on her period?"

Allura frowns. "Lance is right. Sorry, Hunk, we didn't mean to get so sidetracked."

Hunk holds his hands up. "No worries."

"So, back to the matter at hand--"

At that moment, someone collapses into the spot next to Shiro with a groan. "Ugh, I feel so gross," Keith complains loudly. "Shiro, do you still have those meds on you?"

"No, sorry, I left them at home. You still have the key, right? Or do you need me to go get them?" Shiro asks his brother, worry etching his features.

"Nah," Keith replies with a shake of his head, "I can get 'em later. Right now I need a drink."

"They don't sell alcohol here, Keith," Lance scolds jokingly.

Keith rolls his eyes and shoots him a glare. "Obviously I didn't mean _booze_ , Lance," he says bitingly.

Lance throws his hands up. "Geez, OK, someone got up on the wrong side of the bedrock today."

"Lance," Shiro warns.

"Bedrock?" Keith echoes. "Are you insinuating that I live in Hell?"

"It's something we men like to call a joke, Keith. They're harmless."

In a flash, Keith is on his feet. Shiro grabs his wrist before he can do anything impulsive. "Why don't you go get some hot chocolate and then head over to my place?" Shiro suggests gently, shooting Lance a warning glare as he pipes up to say something.

Keith huffs, yanking his wrist out of his brother's grasp. "Fine. I'll see you later." He turns on his heel and stomps over to the counter.

Lance is just about to relax into the couch when Shiro says his name. "Keith is having a rough day. I suggest you leave him be next time."

Lance huffs, rolling his eyes as he flops back into the couch. "Ugh, fine. But only if you tell him to stop being such a pussy."

"It's things like that that get you in trouble, you know," Pidge tells him.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever! Let's focus on Hunk's trouble, not mine!" he bursts out. He hopes the others don't catch the way his eyes track Keith as the other leaves the cafe.

Vaguely, he wonders where that thought came from.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo, a slightly longer chapter!   
> I just wanted to say thank you so much for all the comments and kudos! I was not expecting this to actually be read by anyone, so thank you!  
> hope you enjoy!  
> also, now you can find me on Tumblr if you so desire: [kingsatanthegay](https://kingsatanthegay.tumblr.com)

When Keith finally gets back to his room, he finds Rolo in the kitchen making a late lunch. Keith comes up behind the other man and rests his chin on Rolo's shoulder. He feels Rolo smile against his cheek and says, "Hey."

"Hey. Did you get what you needed from Shiro?" Rolo is roughly chopping chicken, tossing it in a bowl and pouring mayo and mustard over it. Keith nods, humming in response, watching as Rolo mixes the meat in with the condiments and puts it on some sandwiches. "What was it, anyway?"

Keith shrugs. "Just some notes. For extra study, you know."

Rolo hums, pressing the top piece of bread down on the sandwiches. "You hungry?"

Keith nods eagerly, snatching up a sandwich. He sighs as he chews. "Nn... I've been needing carbs all day." Rolo quirks an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. "Oh, that reminds me. Hunk has a sprained wrist. From his SM. He thinks she got into some weird shit, says he felt these 'phantom fingers' push his shoulder, or something."

Rolo hums again, seemingly mulling this over. "That's... quite interesting. I wonder how that happened."

"Shiro said Pidge was working on a hypothesis; said she already had it halfway figured out," Keith said with a shrug. 

"Did... he tell you what said hypothesis was?" Rolo asked, picking at his sandwich.

Keith shook his head. "No. No details, just that she had one already." Rolo hummed, nodding. "Well," Keith announced, suddenly pushing off the counter, finished with his sandwich, "I'm gonna go to sleep."

"But... it's only two..." Rolo glanced at the clock on the stove next to them to prove his point.

Keith only nodded, already stepping out of the kitchen. "Yep. And I'm going to sleep."

 

* * *

 

 After the rest of them left the cafe, Lance, of course, was complaining about Keith ruining their little excursion.

"I mean, why does he always have to come in with his stupid mullet, and his stupid face, and just open his stupid mouth and say stupid things!" He flung himself onto Hunk's shoulder, groaning in his friend's ear. "You understand, don't you, Hunk?"

"Of co--uh, I think Shiro's right, you know? I mean, maybe he's just having a bad day? That's totally plausible, dude." Shiro shifted his warning glare from Hunk and resumed peacefully observing his surroundings. 

"Ugh!" Lance threw himself off of Hunk dramatically. "You're all against me! I'm going home."

All of them knew not to protest Lance's decisions at this point, and so remained silent as he strode away. 

Finally alone, Lance had the chance to mull things over without outside influence. Hunk had a sprained wrist because his SM had sprained hers. He had felt someone shove him right before the sprain had happened. Admittedly, it wasn't very much to go on, but it was all they had, and Lance tried his darnedest to figure something from it. 

He passed the gym just as someone else exited it. 

"Oh, hey, Shay." Lance blinked in surprise; he never saw Shay off-campus, or even this late on-campus. 

Her face fell, eyes widening. She quickly composed herself and smiled brightly at him. "Hi, Lance. What a surprise."

She had her arms wrapped around her middle, almost as if she were clutching it in pain. One of her arms seemed bulkier under her yellow sweater sleeve. 

"I was thinking the same thing." Then something occurred to Lance. "Hey, Shay, I was just wondering..." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of ways to phrase this. Shay's eyes were gradually widening again, and he could see worry deep within them. "Uh.. Are you, you know..." She clutched at her middle tighter, and Lance could feel the tension rising. He decided, _Fuck it, let's just go for it._ "Are you by any chance on your period right now?" he blurted, every word slurring together. 

Shay blinked. The tension drained from her shoulders and she let out a puff of air. "Uh, no, no I'm not. Can I ask why?"

Lance felt his face heat up in embarrassment. He coughed. "Uh, well, that's... My soulmate is on their period right now, so I was just... wondering." He shoved his hands deep in his pockets. "Wow, this is, um... Yeah."

They stood in silence for a couple beats before they both started speaking at the same time. 

"Well, I gotta go..."

"Did you hear about Hunk?"

The two stared at each other for a moment. This time, Shay spoke first. 

"What about Hunk? Is he OK?" Her voice was laced with concern, eyebrows pinched together. 

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. But there's some freaky shit going on with his soulmate." Lance explained the ghost shove and Hunk's hurt wrist. Shay's eyes never left his as they grew yet again to the size of saucers. 

When Lance had almost finished with the story, Shay cut him off: "I'm sorry, Lance, I just remembered I have to get home so I can cook dinner. I'll see you tomorrow." She left without waiting for a response, shoulders high and tight. Lance wondered what he'd said to set her off this time. 

 

When Lance arrived at the dorm, he saw someone else was already in the hallway. As he neared, he realized--not without great frustration--that it was Rolo. 

He shoved off the wall when Lance walked past, and said, "Hey."

Lance stopped, turning slowly to face the other man. "Yeah?" 

"Do you have a minute? I just wanted to talk to you about something."

"I guess I could spare 60 seconds." Lance's eyes narrowed in suspicion. What could Rolo possibly want with him?

"I heard about Hunk."

What? How could he have found out ab--Keith. That rat bastard. He'd sold them out. But what else could Lance have expected? For Keith not to have told his boyfriend about something this big? He should've known better than to let Shiro text Keith the information. 

"Yeah? And?" 

"I was wondering what you made of it."

Lance sniffed. "And what's it to you?" Lance knew he was being unreasonable. Really, he did. He just didn't want to seem like he'd give this asshole information at the snap of his fingers. 

Rolo shrugged, splaying his fingers. "Curiosity. The academic mind demands knowledge of all things possible and impossible."

Lance floundered for a second. What did any of that even _mean_? "That still doesn't mean I should tell you."

"Fine, then. Don't." Lance made to leave, but Rolo added, sounding strained, "Do you know what's up with Keith? He's--he's sleeping right now. Came in, inhaled a sandwich and fell asleep." 

Lance chuckled to himself. Rolo had sucked up his pride enough to ask him about Keith? His _own boyfriend_? Someone _he_ should know the most about? Lance didn't have a clue what was wrong with Keith, but he wasn't about to let Rolo in on that. He was going to play his cards right and stay in the game as long as he could. "As if it isn't obvious."

"How d'you mean?"

" _Please._ _Everyone_ knows. Except you, I guess."

"Well, what the hell is it, then?" Rolo was growing impatient. Good. 

"Sorry, man," Lance said unapologetically, pretending to zip his lips, "Keith made us promise not to tell. And I'm not one to go behind others' backs and talk about them. So." He shrugged, making his escape at long last. 

Slav was, of course, seated at his desk in front of a mountain of paperwork and an open laptop. Code was running across the screen so fast that Lance had to ask how he could even read it.

His roommate glanced up as the door shut. Lance held up a hand. "Don't even start. I'm begging."

He went back to his work with a shrug. 

Lance fell back on his bed with a loud sigh. What a day this had been so far, and it wasn't even over. He still had another class in a couple hours. His assignment lay, incomplete, on the floor. Not that he would bother doing it; he needed time to process everything 

Hunk's soulmate was probably being abused. Right now, she had a sprained wrist. So if she was anywhere near them, she wouldn't be too hard to spot. 

Lance's soulmate was on their period. But according to Pidge and Allura, he couldn't just go around asking people if they were on their period. He _could_ , however, cross Pidge, Hunk, and Shay off his list. 

Something was up with Keith. He was telling Rolo everything, snapping at Lance quicker than usual, and sleeping in the middle of the afternoon. Plus, he had asked Shiro for meds earlier, which was a sure fire indicator of sickness. 

Shay was having issues. He didn't know how to explain it, but something just felt... off about her. He knew he couldn't be the only person who'd seen it, there was no way. 

Lance groaned, rolling over to bury his face in a pillow. 

What was he going to do about any of this?

 

* * *

 

 His alarm blared in his ear, and with a groan, Keith forced himself out of bed. He needed to go to this next class, couldn't afford to miss it. But it was also one he shared with Lance... No, he shouldn't skip.

Rolo was working on some homework in the living room. "I talked to Lance."

Keith froze. "Uh... OK."

"He seemed put out." When Keith furrowed his brow, Rolo continued. "I think he was upset. With someone. More specifically, you."

His head cocked to the side. "What do you mean, 'he's upset with me?' He  _always is_."

"I know, but he seemed more upset than usual today. He even asked me what was wrong with you. I thought maybe you'd done something to offend him-- _really_ offend him, that is."

Keith could feel his temper rising. Lance had the  _nerve_ to come over to  _his house_ and ask  _what was wrong with him_? He grit his teeth, hands clenching and unclenching.  _God_ _,_ why did he always have to get  _so worked up_ when it came to Lance? This guy just had the power to get on every single one of his nerves--even when he's not present! Not to mention,  _Lance_ had been the one to initiate the argument this time,  _not_ Keith. That had to count for something. 

"What did he say?" Keith ground out.

Rolo shrugged, casual, like this was all some game to him. "Just that you two had gotten into an argument at the cafe, and that you stormed out before he could get a word in." Rolo looked him over and added, "You know, I really think you should learn to better control your temper. Even when I  _mention_ his name, you get all..." He gestured to Keith, at his clenched jaw and fists.

That was it. Keith had had it. "Look, buddy,  _you_ don't get to tell me what to do, OK? And if you don't like that, you can get the fuck out, because I have had it up to  _here_ with the 'I think you should do this' and 'how about you try that!' I am  _done,_ OK?  _Done._ And you wanna know what  _I_ think? I think you should learn to filter your words, and think before you speak. Because you know what? Not everyone is gonna stick around like me if you keep it up. And trust me, it's not impossible to say to yourself, 'Is this something I wanna hear?' FYI, if the answer is  _no,_ then  _don't fucking say it_!" Keith was breathing hard, stance defensive. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to be late to my class." 

He slammed the door behind him, not caring that that had been their first argument. It was surprising, really, that they hadn't fought before this.  _Actually_ fought, that is (Did that even count as an argument? Keith had been the only one yelling). They'd had plenty of disagreements--where to eat, what to watch, who was hotter: Mothman or Alan Rickman as Snape. Rolo had said that he voted Alan Rickman because Keith "totally looked like Snape." Keith  _totally did not agree,_ but he wasn't about to make a huge deal out of it.

So yeah, Keith was pissed. That was nothing new. Keith was pissed at Lance, which was also nothing new. Him being completely pissed at Rolo, however... That was new. Sure, he'd been  _mad_ at his boyfriend before, but never  _this_ mad. It almost scared him. What if Rolo dumped him because of Keith's blowup? Just like that, his anger evaporated and tears pricked the backs of his eyes. 

Keith Kogane did  _not_ cry.

OK, that was a lie, Keith Kogane totally did cry, just not where anyone else can find out about it. Meaning, crying in public was a hard no. He rubbed furiously at his eyes, which only made them redder. 

A door opened down the hall and Keith thought bitterly,  _Perfect timing._  

Then: "Uh..."

Keith silently prayed for some deity to smite him, because  _god,_ he wanted to be ended  _right now_. He did not have the patience to deal with this. Slowly he turned to face Lance, who was standing frozen in the middle of the hall. "What the fuck do you want?"

Lance blinked at him, mouth open.

"You're gonna catch flies if you keep that up." His mouth snapped shut with an audible  _clack_ of teeth. "Now spit it out."

"Uh, maybe we should start walking? To, you know, class?" Lance suggested gently, as if he were afraid Keith would bite him. He probably would. 

Keith huffed and crossed his arms, but started walking nonetheless. "What do you want, Lance?" he asked wearily, worn out from all the emotions.

"What makes you think I want anything?"

"I don't know, it just seemed like the right thing to say." Keith shrugged. "But I guess I wanted to talk to you. About... About something Rolo said." Lance tensed, but when Keith paused to look at him, he simply motioned for Keith to continue. "He said he talked to you earlier, and you seemed put out. By something I did--in the cafe. Said you were offended by it."

Lance cocked his head, eyebrows furrowed. He shook his head slowly. "No... He  _did_ talk to me earlier, but he just wanted to know what I made of Hunk's wrist. And then he asked me what was wrong with you."

"He said  _you_ asked  _him_ what was wrong with me." Now Keith was furrowing his brow too, trying to figure out what the hell Rolo thought he was doing. The two exchanged a look and started brainstorming reasons for Rolo's behaviour.

 

By the time class let out, they had come up with a whole list of reasons, and Keith felt better than he had in... well, a while. 

 _I could get used to this..._ Keith thought with a smile in Lance's direction, watching as the other boy's face lit up as he spoke about anything that came to mind. _I could_ definitely _get used to this._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh look, it's a bonding moment

When Lance reached out to open the dormitory door, Keith grabbed at his sleeve, stopping the other man's arm. Lance looked down at him, surprised. Keith had never willingly come into contact with him before. What's more, Keith was biting his lip and his eyes were glued to the ground. 

"Keith?" Lance prompted. "What's up?" 

He watched as Keith took a deep breath to steel himself and then fixed his gaze steadily on Lance's. "I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. And I'm not gonna say it won't happen again, because it will. Guaranteed. But it doesn't mean I hate you." 

Lance blinked. The last thing he'd ever expect to come out of Keith Kogane's mouth directed to him was an apology. So it was natural that part of him wanted to revel in this moment. But another part of him saw how nervous Keith was that he'd fucked up, that Lance thought the worst of him. That was the part Lance always tried to listen to—he didn't always succeed, but at least he tried. 

"Uh, don't worry about it. I  _did_  start it, after all. I shouldn't've provoked you." Lance offered a small smile to Keith's mixed expression—worry, relief, hope, distress. 

His expression settled on relief, and Lance felt his heart soar. Keith looked pensive as Lance reached for the knob again. Lance waited for him to say something, but nothing came. 

Lance understood the sentiment, though. He couldn't count the number of times he hadn't wanted to go home and had instead wandered on the beach, gone window shopping... anything to avoid returning. 

"Y'know what,  I need some groceries. There's a Save-On a couple blocks down I was thinking of going to. Now seems as good a time as ever." 

"Yeah, I'm running a bit low on food, too. Plus, It's always good to stock up in case of the apocalypse." 

Lance couldn't help the laugh that burst from his throat at that. "Yeah, or just, y'know, eating." 

"That too." Keith laughed along with him as they began their journey to the grocery store. 

 

* * *

 

"Keeeeeith," Lance whined, leaning all his weight on the other's shoulder. "My feet hurt." 

"You're the one who said you wanted to walk to the store," Keith reminded him. 

"Yeah, but that's cause I thought it was closer! I didn't think it was  _sixteen blocks away_!" He flung himself off Keith with his last words to emphasize them. 

Keith glanced at him sidelong, smirking. "What are you saying? You can't walk a few extra blocks? Too much of a challenge for Lance Mc-fucking-Clain?" 

Lance crossed his arms, pouting because he knew he'd already let Keith win. "Oh,  _please,_  we both know it's you who won't make it." 

"Oh?" Keith quirked a brow. "Looks to me like you've already given up." 

"In your dreams, Kogane!" Lance shouted as he took off running down the sidewalk. 

"There's the Lance I know and lo--" Keith cut off his muttering. "--loathe," he finished even though he knew it was a lie. But why had he been about to say that? He was dating Rolo, wasn't he? And there was obviously a reason for that. One would assume that love would be said reason, but... Keith couldn't remember either of them ever telling the other he loved him. They never had, had they? But there was no way they didn't love each other, right? Why else would they share a dorm and go on dates? Keith had always thought that's what people who were in love did. He just couldn't recall feeling that way about Rolo. 

"Keith! What are you doing aaaallll the way back there?" Lance called to him from the corner of the street. "I thought you weren't giving up!" 

God, what was Keith doing? He shook his head and chased after the other man. He needed to stop dwelling on his stupid relationship and just forget for a while. 

"Who said I was?" Keith called back. Lance only laughed and kept running. 

They were way out of breath even before they reached the store, and Keith could feel his legs begging him to stop by the time the green neon came into view.  _I really should work on my cardio and endurance,_ he noted mentally. 

Lance leaned against the wall for support while he caught his breath, and Keith stood next to him, bent over double with his hands above his knees. Lance straightened some time after Keith had, and announced, "Alright, breaktime's over, Kogane! Time to shop!" 

Keith let himself be led into the store, grabbing a basket each on the way. He handed one to Lance, who was staring dumbstruck at the centre aisle. Keith followed his gaze to see what had him in such a state. 

"They have a wine section?!" Lance exclaimed. 

'Section' was one way to put it. 

It was exquisite and completely over-the-top. The display took up two aisles and the shelves that would've separated said aisles were nowhere to be seen. Tables with long tablecloths decorated with bottles of cheap wine and fake flowers took up most of the space. One either side were shelves of what appeared to be wrought-iron, but was probably just plastic and cheap metal. 

Without turning to face him, Lance asked Keith, "Hey, you're over 18, right?" 

Keith furrowed his brow. "Lance, I'm in college. What do you think?" 

"Well, so's Pidge, but she's still a minor." 

"I'm no Pidge." 

"Couldn't've said it better myself." Before Keith could figure out if he'd just been insulted, Lance was linking their arms together and dragging him over to the alcohol. Lance picked up a bottle and whistled at the price. "Holy crow, this is expensive." 

Keith took the bottle from him and examined it. "Lance, this isn't even aged." 

"You don't know that." 

"It says right here. 'Produced and bottled 2017.'" 

Lance sniffed, arms crossed. "That doesn’t prove anything." Out of spite, he placed two bottles in his basket, then flashed Keith a smile. "Booze is on me tonight." 

"Tonight?" Keith asked. "Since when do we have plans tonight?" 

"Since now. Now come on, we have to find something for Pidge to drink, and we still need apocalypse food." 

Keith was towed around the store three times, up and down every aisle  _just in case,_  and even then they only had an almost-half-filled basket each. 

Lance was... whining. Again. "Ugh! There aren't any good cashier lines!" He gestured wildly. "I mean, look! Two overflowing carts,  _five_  people, a new hire, closed, closed, and closed!" He whipped around to face Keith. "Is the Overwaitea Food Group  _trying_  to piss me off?" Lance ran a hand down his face with a sigh. "Man, now I sound like you and Pidge with all your crazy conspiracies." 

Keith crossed his arms. "At least HAARP controlling the weather is plausible..." he grumbled. 

"Whatever you say, Keith. Ooh, look: a self-checkout!" Lance towed the other man over to the machine and was about to scan the wine when he felt a hand on his arm. 

"Lance. I think you missed something." 

"What do you mean? We went through the store, like, three times!" 

"No, I mean that massive sign with the huge font right at the start of the check-out line." He motioned behind him, where there was indeed a sign that read,  _Wine cannot be purchased at a self-checkout. All wine sales are final._  

Lance grumbled to himself and hefted the wine-filled basket off the shelf, shuffling into the line with the green cashier. 

Keith opened his mouth to suggest they change to the line with more people—they had pretty empty carts and the cashier was someone he knew had worked here for a while—but as soon as he did, Lance held up a hand and said, "Ah! Bah-bah-bah-bah-bah! Just—shh." 

 

* * *

 

It took a while, but eventually they got through the checkout line. Way after the longer line of people had left and been replaced by others who had also left. Lance decided that next time they went shopping, he was letting Keith pick the cashier. 

 _Next time? Who said there'd be_   _a next time?_  

Lance quelled his doubtful thoughts and kept walking next to Keith.  

"So. Tonight, huh?" Keith asked. 

"That's the plan." 

"Why not start the party when we get in?" 

"Because waiting's half the fun! Well, with all the fun we're gonna be having, I guess it'll be more like an eighth of the fun? Who cares, anticipation makes it more fun!" 

"Yeah, I guess." 

Lance glanced at the shorter boy sidelong. Something was on his mind, by the wasn't saying anything. That was just like Keith, though. If he was really ticked, he would speak up. He always did when Lance bugged him. 

Keith was uncharacteristically quiet the whole way back. It was unnerving for Lance, who knew Keith was never this quiet despite being almost completely antisocial. 

"Screw anticipation." Lance spoke suddenly, causing Keith to startle. "Wanna come over now and start the pre-party?" 

"Pre-party?" Keith echoed, an amused tilt to his mouth. "You just want an excuse to get drunk sooner." 

Lance splayed his fingers, shrugging. "What can I say? It's stressful being this handsome and having everyone on campus throw themselves at me day in and day out." He put a hand to his forehead and mimed exhaustion. His heart leapt when he heard Keith laughing. 

"Oh, god. If drinking is what it takes to make you  _stop,_  you can have my wine, too." 

The taller boy feigned offense, pressing his hand to his chest. "How you wound me, and after I took you shopping for our party!" 

Keith rolled his eyes and pushed past him into the building. "Let's go get smashed."


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow has it ever been a long time  
> sorry for the delay, I wrote myself into a block and couldn’t get out of it till today  
> this whole Keith and Lance going shopping and having a party was never planned, it just kinda happened while I was writing, and I’m not happy with how it turned out but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I already published the last chapters  
> anyway, thank you so much for reading and sticking this far  
> I promise things will kick off in the next chapter ;]
> 
> edited 20/07/18 to remove allura's & shiro's romance

Keith and Lance were one bottle deep by the time the others showed up. Shiro wore his Disappointed Dad face, and Pidge could barely hold in her laughter. She whispered something to Hunk that made him blush and snicker behind a hand. Allura looked mildly amused. Her amusement increased when Hunk relayed Pidge's message to her.

"It's about time y'all showed up!" Keith said irritably.

"Let's get this party started!" Lance whooped and tossed down the rest of his glass, officially killing the first bottle.

"It looks like you two've already started," Shiro pointed out.

"Buddy, that was just the pre-party. And you missed it, too bad, so sad. The real party starts now!"

Pidge caught sight of the empty wine bottle and wrinkled her nose. "Really? You're having a wine party? That's so soccer mom."

"Aw, don't worry, Little Pidge, we got you some sparkling juice so you didn't feel left out."

"Trust me when I say I don't need juice to not be sad about missing this," she complained, but took the juice anyway.

Keith shot Lance an irritated glare. "Do you really have to talk to Pidge like she's a baby?"

"Um, yeah, she's still a minor!"

"She's two years younger than us!"

"Cool your jets, Keith, you don't have to get your panties in a twist." Lance aimed for a soothing tone—that probably came out more condescending—and placed a hand on Keith's shoulder.

Keith shook his hand off and growled, "I'm not even wearing panties."

"Keith, maybe lay off the wine?" Shiro suggested placatingly.

He grumbled something that sounded vaguely like "Fine" and went off in search of water.

Shiro turned to Lance then, and Lance interrupted the beginning of his lecture: "I know, I know, leave him be, he's had a rough day, he's prone to anger when drunk."

The older man blinked, then nodded. "Alright, sounds like you've got it down pat. Whaddaya say we crack this second bottle?"

Lance let out another whoop and went into the kitchen for the wine. Keith was still in there, standing in front of the sink. As Lance approached, he saw Keith had a hand clapped over his mouth and the other braced on the edge of the counter, like he was going to be sick.

"Keith? Are you alright?" Lance picked up the empty glass Keith had put next to the sink and filled it with cold water, offering it to the other boy, who took it with a shaking hand and sipped at it. Lance rubbed soothing circles on his back. He was used to caring for his younger siblings, so it had become second nature to care for his friends the same way.

Wait. Friends? Since when were he and Keith friends? Since now, he supposed.

Lance could feel his gut roiling, and whether it was from the alcohol, the realization, or his soulmate, he didn't know. Watching Keith gag on the water and the sick made his own gag reflex act up.

Keith refilled the glass and downed it in a few gulps.

"Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks." Keith gave a small smile and reached his arm behind Lance. Lance felt his heart jump—and proceed to drop as Keith pulled back, holding the wine. His smile stretched wide. "'Let's get this party started,'" he quoted, tugging Lance back to the living room.

 

Lance wasn't sure how he felt about drunk Keith. In all honesty, he was kind of weird. One minute he was laughing and having a god time, and the next, his eyes would fill with tears and he would turn his head away. It was always after someone said something, or there was a moment of silence—Lance supposed he could be remembering something.

Lance's stomach kept cramping up, like it did every month, except this time around it was worse--way worse. His insides felt ready to shred. He thought something might rip open down there. Trying to ignore it, he glanced over at Keith, who was wiping at his eyes but laughing.

"Keith, you OK there, buddy?" he asked quietly.

Annoyance flashed across Keith's features. "I'm fine, Lance. Just tryna raise cane."

"Raise... what?" Lance asked, brows furrowed. "Do you..." He was trying his hardest to hold in his laughter. "Do you speak Texan when you're drunk?"

"Now that dog just don't hunt. Pass that wine over here, will ya?" He stretched his arm towards the bottle that was on Lance's other side.

Lance wasn't even trying to hide his laughter anymore, letting it spill from his throat loudly and earning a glare from Keith, who was now draped across him in an attempt to reach the alcohol.

"Damn it, Lance, pass it here!"

Then Shiro was up and running for the washroom, arms windmilling as he fought to keep his balance. This caused a quickly-stifled bubble of laughter to burst from Keith's mouth.

He leaned in close to whisper in Lance's ear, "He's callin' Earl already, can you believe it?" He snickered. "Really he's a lightweight, but come hell or highwater he'll pretend he's not, so Pidge doesn't spread rumours."

Lance was unnerved by Keith's closeness. "O...K, I think it's high time you lay off the wine, my friend."

Keith leaned back, crossing his arms with a frown. "Why?" Was he... was he pouting? For real?

His stomach gave another squeeze, and Lance clutched at it.

"What's wrong with your stomach?" Keith asked. Was that all it took to sober Keith up? _Unbelievable._

"I don’t know, man,” he replied honestly. “Must be my soulmate, I’m not this much of a lightweight.”

He didn’t notice the muscle in Keith’s cheek jump. “Lightweight? Lance, you practically drank that entire bottle yourself and you’re barely drunk.”

“Oh?” Lance quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge I hear?” His stomach clenched violently, making him double over in pain and grunt. “Fuck… I can’t believe I’m experiencing this secondhand… How do people deal?”

“With what? Stomach cramps?”

“I’m 90% sure these are period cramps.”

“Are you…” Both of Keith’s eyebrows were raised, eyes wide and expectant.

“No,” Lance grunted. “But my soulmate is, I think. Goddamn I feel bad for them. Also with them, but that’s not the point.”

“Uh… well, alcohol does mess with the soul connections—and it makes PMS symptoms worse…” he added in a mutter. “Maybe put the bottle to rest for tonight? It might help.”

Lance glanced at Keith with eyes narrowed against the pain. “How do you know all that?”

Keith smirked. “I paid attention in health class. Turns out school really does pay off.”

“Yeah well, I guess it’s easier for some than others…”

“What do you—”

“You know, I think you’re right. This is my last drink. Now what do you say we party?”

The concern was evident in the set of Keith's shoulders and eyebrows, but he let it slide. “What have we been doing so far, if not partying?”

“You think this is a party?” Lance scoffed. “You have so much to learn.”

The party, as it turned out, did not kick off from there. It ended with the six of them in varying states of consciousness, spread across the room.

Keith got up to use the washroom and sat with Pidge afterward, and the side of Lance’s body was cold from where he'd been leaning. He found he missed the warmth. However, he didn't have the brain power to deal with the implications of that right now.

After a while, Shiro stood on shaky legs and announced, “Alright, we’re heading out. You should too.” He eyed Hunk, Keith, and Pidge. The latter two rolled their eyes but got to their feet nonetheless.

Pidge and Hunk shuffled out, the small girl pinned between his arm and his side, mumbling goodbyes slurred by tiredness and drunkenness. Shiro and Allura follow them out to make sure they get back safe.

Only Keith remained, awkwardly toeing the carpet floor and looking everywhere but at Lance.

“What’s up, buddy?” Lance smirked. “Don't wanna leave all this?”

To his surprise, Keith shook his head.

“O-oh… Well, I guess that's cool, then. Lemme just get some blankets and a pillow…” When he returned, Keith hadn't moved. He spread the blankets out on the couch and turned back to the characteristically quiet boy. “You can take the bed, I'll sleep here.”

Keith glanced up, finally making eye contact. “No, I'll take the couch.”

Lance waved away his protest. “Nonsense. I'm nothing if not hospitable. What would my mamá say if she found out I made my sad friend sleep on a couch?”

Keith managed a small smile at that, but it quickly dissipated into a frown. “Rolo and I had a fight.”

If it hadn't bothered Keith so much, Lance would've said something along the lines of, _Now, why doesn't that surprise me?_ Instead, he kept his mouth shut and let Keith continue.

“It was bad, worse than the other fights we've had. It's my fault, and I—“ Keith took a shaky breath. “—I dunno if he'll wanna deal with me after it.”

Lance guided him over to sit on the couch. “Do you wanna talk about what happened?”

He watched as Keith swallowed and closed his eyes. “He told me he talked to you—I already told you that part—and then he told me to get my temper under control, and I just—I snapped and told him to fuck off and stop telling me what to do. Then I left before he could his two cents in.” He hid his face with his hands, as if ashamed of his actions.

“Hey.” Lance rubbed the space between his shoulder blades. “It's not your fault. Honestly, he deserved it. And not just for bossing you around all the time. The guy’s just a douche in general. Don't beat yourself over giving him a piece of your mind.”

Keith uncovered his face and side-eyed Lance. “You don't think I blew things out of proportion?”

“Nope.”

“Not even just a little bit?”

“Keith, buddy, if the info I've got is anything to go by, this has been happening for a while and the anger’s been building up inside you all along. It was only a matter of time before this happened.”

The other boy nodded, but Lance could tell he wasn't convinced. That only strengthened Lance’s determination.

“Keith. Look at me. If you were constantly nitpicking someone and one day they exploded at you, would you blame them, or yourself?” Keith’s silence was answer enough.

Lance stood, using Keith’s shoulder to do so, then offered him a hand. “Come on, you're probably exhausted. Let's get you to bed.”

The shorter boy didn't protest taking the bed further, to Lance’s relief.

“Alright, so the washroom’s at the end of the hall, last door—oh, you already knew that, didn't you? Well, I'll be in the living room if you need anything. ‘Night.” He took a step towards the door only to be jerked back by the hand that was still in Keith’s grasp.

Suddenly, he found himself falling to one side and in Keith’s arms. “Goodnight, Lance. Thank you.”

As he settled himself on the couch, Lance decided exactly how he felt about drunk Keith. 


	7. Chapter 7

Waking up in a bed that wasn't his own was bizarre and disorienting. Posters decorated the walls and figurines the shelves, and the floor was taken up by scattered laundry and textbooks. Cologne permeated the air, cologne that Keith recognized as distinctly _Lance_. He inhaled deeply and rolled out of bed. 

Or, well, he tried. His knees buckled the moment his feet hit the floorboards. 

 _"Oof!"_  

He lay there a moment and rubbed his aching forehead. God, he'd drunk so much wine last night... He remembered being nauseated by the alcohol, not just because of its contents, but because-- 

 _"Shit!"_ He shot to his feet in a panic and dashed to the washroom. Keith checked himself over, then sighed in relief. 

 _Oh thank god... It's over._  

A knock on the door broke through his relief. 

"Uh, Keith?" Lance. "You OK in there, buddy?" 

"Y-yeah, I'm fine..." 

"Still _callin' Earl_?" 

Keith whipped open the door. "What?" 

"Y'know... You said it last night." At Keith's lost expression, Lance asked, "Did you not know you speak Texan when you're drunk?" 

Keith felt like his lungs were about to explode. Then they did. Into laughter. Lance, slightly confused, laughed along with him. 

"That is _the_ most— _ridiculous_ thing—I've ever heard!" 

Lance was looking fondly down at him, which Keith could not handle. He reigned in his laughter and cleared his throat. 

… 

"So..." Lance spoke into the silence. "There's some bacon and eggs if you're hungry." 

At the mention of food, Keith's stomach growled. 

"I'll take that as a yes," Lance chuckled, turning to lead the way into the kitchen. 

The smell of grease strengthened as they entered the room. Lance had already made up two plates and washed the dishes. A pang of guilt stabbed Keith's chest. Did Lance know he didn't need to do any of this? That he could simply have booted Keith and been on his way?  

He was about to ask as much when Lance set the plates on the table and faced Keith, smiling softly. "Keith, it's fine. Come sit, eat. I'm happy to do this for you." 

Keith's eyebrows crinkled. But he'd already done so much... All throughout the previous day, Lance had catered to Keith, had gone out of his way to spend time with him, and what had Keith done? Drunk Lance's wine and burdened him with his troubles and stolen his bed for the night.  

 _Yeah, what a great friend I am._  

"Keith." Whoa. When had Lance gotten so close? "Stop overthinking. I wanted to cook for you and let you stay over. So don't go thinking you have to repay me or some shit, because you don't. OK?" 

Lance was gazing at him expectantly, trying to catch his eye. Keith did the only thing he knew would get him out of this situation: he nodded, sat down, and took a bite of the eggs. 

 _"A-ha-ow!"_ he gasped, fanning his open mouth. 

"Careful, buddy, they're hot." Lance set a glass of water in front of Keith, who gulped it down. 

"Thanks for the warning," he said dryly. 

Lance smirked. "Just eat your damn food." 

 

* * *

 

"Hey, Shay! Where ya goin'?" Lance called to her as she passed by the group. 

"Sorry, I have to go home." She didn't look up as she spoke, just kept her eyes trained on her moving feet. She held her arm parallel to the ground, and the sleeve around her wrist seemed a bit bulkier than usual. 

Lance whipped around to face his friends. "You guys saw that, right?" 

"What, Shay ignoring us? Almost didn't notice." Hunk frowned, shoulders dropping. 

"No! I meant her arm, her wrist! I think it's broken!" 

Keith's brow furrowed. "How would you know that? She's wearing long sleeves, you can't see her arms." 

"I think he may have a point." Pidge paused in her comforting Hunk to speak to them. "She's not letting her arm swing when she walks. And who do you know that holds their arm up like that?" 

Keith narrowed his eyes and his gaze slid to the silent member of their party. "I think I have an idea as to who." 

Pidge and Lance followed his gaze. Lance's face lit up and he slapped his old friend on the shoulder jovially. Hunk flinched, and Pidge smirked when she saw Shay flinch in a similar manner further down the sidewalk. "Hunk, my man! Congratulations!" 

The three let Lance have his happy moment, then Keith jumped in and yanked him back down to Earth. "Lance! You know what this means, right?" 

"Uh, yeah...? Hunk found his soulmate!" 

"No, you idiot!" Keith ground his teeth together and uncrossed his arms to gesture angrily. "Think! Remember the reason we were all worried about Hunk's soulmate?" 

The very moment Lance made the connection was visible: the light in his eyes faded, his smile collapsed into a frown, and his shoulders slumped. "Aw, jeez. Oh, Hunk." He pulled his friend into a tight hug. When he pulled away, he had his game face on. "We need to help Shay." 

  

They called for a rendez-vous at the cafe and met up with Shiro and Allura there. Much to Lance's obvious dismay, Keith just  _had_  to phone up Rolo and get him in on it, too. Why couldn't he--for  _once_ \--not invite Rolo? It couldn't be that hard. 

Coran brought them all their coffees and took his break to help them brainstorm a plan. His time in the military would come in handy. "Alright, boys, Pidge, Allura, let's lay out the facts. What do we know about the situation?" 

Rolo sat up straighter, gaze sharpening as he focused on Pidge. Lance narrowed his eyes at the man, but turned back to Pidge.  

Pidge pulled out some scrap paper from her bag and smoothed it out on the table. As she spoke, she jotted down points. "Hunk and Shay are soulmates--unless our evidence was just a fluke. Shay's being abused. Or so we can infer based on Hunk's frequent bruising and the fact that she's always in a rush to get home, and won't let anyone get near her house. She never talks about anything personal, that's another reason. And, if my hypothesis from before was correct, she gets extremely scared during moments of pain, so it's likely that she's not getting injured on the job." 

Coran twirled his moustache, deep in thought. "Do any of you think we should call the police and let them take care of it? This seems as though it's simply a case of abusive parents." 

"Lemme call my dads; they're police. They'll know what to do." Everyone waited silently while Keith pulled his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear. "Hello? Dad? Uh... We have a situation ... Yeah, we kinda need your and Pa's help ... Mhm ... The cafe, you know, on Sixth and Main? ... OK, thanks. Love you, too. Bye." 

He glanced up to see Lance's eyes watering. "It'll be fine, Lance. We can get Shay outta this." 

Lance shook his head, pressing his lips tighter together. 

"Oh come on, are you suddenly a pessimist?" 

When Lance opened his mouth to tell Keith that,  _no, he is not a pessimist,_  laughter burst from his belly and the tears spilled over his eyelids. "Ohmigod,  _Keith,_ you call your dad  _Pa_?" 

"Uh, yeah? That's a normal thing that normal people call their dads." 

"Yeah--if they're cowboys." Cue another bubble of laughter. 

"Would you fuck off about the Texan thing already?" 

"Only if you stop saying and doing things cowboys would." 

"God, you're such a child." 

"You don't have to call me that, Lance is just fine." 

He watched in amusement as Keith's face scrunched in confusion. Then his features smoothed out and he gave Lance a deadpan look. 

"Guys!" Hunk burst in loudly. "I'm sorry, but can we please focus on Shay? I'm really worried about her..." 

Lance put an arm around Hunk and rubbed soothing circles on his back. "We'll get her out of this mess, I promise. She'll be safe and sound before you know it." 

"Sorry, Hunk, I didn't mean to get  _distracted_." Keith glared pointedly at the Cuban boy seated across from him. "My dads are on their way over now." 

Hunk nodded mutely, wringing his hands and staring vacantly at the patterned carpet beneath their feet. 

The bell above the door chimed and in walked Keith's dads. They pulled up chairs and immediately got down to business. 

"So what exactly is this situation?" Thace asked, steepling his fingers. 

Pidge explained to them all the details and then waited patiently while the two of them mulled them over and conferred with each other in low voices. 

Ulaz lifted his head and looked at Hunk. "This girl, what's her last name?" 

"Uh, I think it was... Balmera? Yeah, that sounds right." 

Thace and Ulaz exchanged weighted looks. "That girl's family," Thace said, "was heavily involved with a gang. Her father frequently borrowed money from them to keep his shop running, but he couldn't earn enough profit to pay them back. Eventually the shop closed, and the family virtually vanished. As far as any authority's concerned, they stopped existing with the shop. Now, Shay we've seen walking to and from school and the gym. But the rest of them..." He trailed off and pursed his lips grimly. 

Ulaz continued where his husband dropped off: "The gang members have infiltrated police ranks, if suspicions prove to be true. But alas, suspicions are merely suspicions, and therefore aren't enough for anyone to take action. You did a good thing calling us instead of the station. It's more likely than not that you would have been dismissed by one of the Galra. Their leader would have been informed and security tightened. Shay might not have been allowed to leave the house again." 

"Galra?" Shiro asked in a hushed tone. He gulped and nodded. "Heh... It's been a while." His gaze was far away, unfocused. Keith could tell he was remembering. He put a hand on his brother's shoulder to try and bring him back to himself.  

Thace sat up straighter. "You know them?" 

Shiro laughed bitterly. "You could say that..." He shook his head. "It's not the time to get into it. We need to focus on the issue at hand. How are we going to go about rescuing the Balmeras?" 

 

The group dispersed after discussing their plan. Pidge went back to her and Hunk’s place to nurse a headache her soulmate had given her. Coran went back to work despite wishing he could stay with Lance, Shiro, and Allura to comfort Hunk. Keith and Rolo left together, Keith with Rolo’s arm laid tight across his shoulders. 

 Lance glared at their retreating figures. Rolo had been strangely silent during the meeting. In fact, he hadn’t breathed a word. It went without saying that Lance didn’t trust him—was probably the only one who didn’t—but right now he had better things to worry about.  

He turned back to Hunk, who had been reduced to a sobbing puddle on the couch.  

“Hey, buddy,” he said gently. “What do you say we head back to mine and relax a bit?” 

Hunk nodded mutely. Lance guided him off the couch and to the bus stop, because he knew it would be quicker and that he needed to distract his friend as soon as possible.  

The bus ride lasted less than ten minutes, and then Lance had Hunk wrapped in a blanket on the couch while he fussed with the teakettle. Lance took a seat next to Hunk and leaned his weight against his sad friend. Hunk didn’t like to be held; he liked to do the holding, even if that meant an almost-fatal condition for the holdee. True to his nature, Hunk had his arms around Lance in a bone-crushing hug in no time.  

“We’ll find her, Hunk. And then we’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again. I promise. And what does it mean when I make a promise?” 

Hunk didn’t appear to hear him at first.  

“Hunk, buddy, what does it mean?” 

“It—it means you follow through,” Hunk spluttered.  

“That’s right. Now, what do you say to some tea and TV?” Lance clapped his hands and rubbed them together as he stood.  

The kettle was screaming by the time Lance got into the kitchen. He fixed up the beverages then cuddled back up to Hunk.

“Here you go, buddy.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> edited 31/07/18 to remove allura’s & shiro’s romance

Today. Their plan would be put into action today. 

Lance’s skin buzzed all day, and during his shared class with Keith, he could tell that the other boy’s skin was buzzing as well. Neither of them could sit still: jiggling legs, tapping fingertips, rolling pencils.

Whenever he glanced over at Keith, Lance found himself being watched already. He offered a small smile each time he caught Keith’s eyes, but never got one in return. He straightened in his seat and refocused on the teacher, pretending this didn’t bother him. Neither boy spoke throughout the lecture, unlike usual, and silence dominated their walk to the café. 

Everyone else was already seated by the time they walked through the door. 

Pidge, it seemed, had decided that the buzzing in her bones wasn’t enough energy, and that she needed three cups of coffee to go with it. Shiro had barely agreed to let her join, and had done so reluctantly. He’d tried to stop Allura coming as well, but all further protests had died when she’d thrown him over her shoulder and dropped him at the other side of the room without breaking a sweat. 

The seven of them, Rolo, and Keith’s dads all piled into Coran’s minivan. If Lance had thought his walk over with Keith had been awkwardly silent, that had nothing on this drive. No one so much as glanced at each other, but they were all thinking the same thing. What they were about to do could go one of two ways: absolutely fantastic, or horribly wrong. 

And Lance had a very bad feeling in the pit of his gut. 

 

The lot was eerily abandoned. The gravel popped under the tires and then under their feet when they parked and stepped out. The wind whistled through the trees at the edge of the lot, making their leaves quiver and Pidge shiver. 

Her voice shattered the silence. “Heh, didn’t think it’d be this cold. Shoulda brought a sweater or somethin’.”

“Where is everyone?” asked Keith skeptically. 

“Yeah, shouldn’t there be patrols and lookouts?” Lance agreed. 

“This isn’t a spy movie, Lance.” Shiro’s voice was tight, bordering on squeaky. “Besides, that’s not this gang’s style. They’re sneaky, sly. Not up in your face. This is how they do things: wait for you to come to them. Leaves them with all the power.”

“Huh, you really… know these guys, don’t you?”

Shiro didn’t answer Lance’s question, instead choosing to slowly lead the way forwards, all the while scanning the windows of the building. Movement in one of them caught Lance's eye.

"Shiro, there--!" No sooner had the words left his mouth, than the doors flew open, bodies streaming forth.

Shiro froze, eyes wide and panicked, locked on to the purple cloths the gang members wore in various places: heads, arms, legs. He didn't seem to register when Keith started yelling his name and shaking him by the shoulders. Then his gaze trailed over to his brother and cleared. He shook his head and took up a fighting stance, mirrored by Keith.

"They were expecting us. Someone tipped them off."

Rolo raised his fists. "We can't be sure. Maybe they just heard us pull up in the van."

There was no time for Lance to rebut because right then, the Galra were on top of them. Their small group was outnumbered at least four to one, and in the short window between being surrounded and being shoved to the ground, Lance found the time to wonder how so many people had fit inside that small building.

He rolled out of the way just as the gang member brought a rock down hard. The gravel jumped with the force of the swing, and Lance shuddered at the image of his blood doing the same thing. He hooked his leg around the Galra's knees and used the momentum to sweep him to the ground.

Lance glanced up to see Keith in the thick of things. Why did he do that? Couldn't he just, you know, fight _one person at a time_?! No, he had to take on three bulky guys at the same time. 

Lance checked around him to make sure no one was coming at him. The coast was clear. He charged the guy that was winding up to punch Keith. It wasn't enough to knock him over, just distract him, but it was enough to keep him from hitting Keith. Unfortunately, it didn't take long for him to recover, and he swung at Lance. He dodged, feeling his heart skip a beat when he felt the disturbance in the air next to his ear. He gulped and did the first thing that came to mind: kicked the guy square in the balls. Or, tried to. He barely reacted.

"Oh, fuck me," Lance whimpered. He turned tail as the gang member charged after him. He was still running when he heard someone shout his name. 

"Lance!"

Shiro was standing next to the Galra's unconscious body, chest heaving. "You can stop running now."

Lance found himself nodding. He'd never seen Shiro get violent--still hadn't, he guessed--but the mere thought of the man putting his hands on anyone in that way sent shivers down Lance's spine. 

He looked back to where Keith was adamantly fighting. He'd knocked one guy out and was now only facing off against a solitary gang member, _thank god_. 

Then the gang member wound up and punched Keith square in the jaw, and pain blossomed on Lance's own face. He cried out and brought his hands up to clutch at his aching jaw. His skin felt like fire and he could feel it swelling beneath his fingers. The last thing on his mind was that _Keith_ was the one who'd been hit. 

He silently thanked the heavens that no one seemed to have noticed his situation--there were too many screams for them to hear his--and made his way over to Keith. 

He was sprawled on the ground at the Galra's feet, his cheek a brilliant mix of red and blue. Lance wondered if his own face had that same colouring. The Galra reached down and plucked Keith off the ground by his shirt collar, bringing his fist up once more. Keith grit his teeth in defeat, knowing there was no way he could get out of this. 

Then his back hit the ground as the Galra sucked in a breath though his teeth, clutching his wrist. He looked around wildly, trying to find something.

"Heh." A trademark smug chuckle. Just what Keith needed. To be indebted to that loser for saving his life. He risked a glance over at Lance, and was surprised to see him standing a few metres away, a stone in hand. "There's more where that came from, buck-o. Step away from the cowboy."

Never in his life had Keith been more glad to hear those words. He didn't attempt to fight off the smile that found its way to his lips, wincing when it reached his swollen cheek. He saw Lance wince, too, finally spotting the other man’s jaw. Keith reached up and--yeah, it was more swollen than it felt. 

His glee was short-lived, however, when movement behind Lance caught his eye. More precisely, movement coming towards Lance. He flung out an arm and spluttered what he hoped would suffice as a warning, but Lance didn't quite catch on before his feet were swept out from under him and his face met the gravel. 

Keith felt the gravel biting into his own cheek--thankfully not the swollen one. He also felt pain in his shoulder when Lance's arm was pinned against his own back. He didn't need a Galra holding him down, he was immobilized from the pain alone. He wondered how Lance's arm hadn't been dislocated yet. Or maybe it had and that was why he was yelling so much...

Then Allura ran in and pulled the gang member off of Lance, tossing him like a bag of flour into the wall of the building. Keith watched in stunned silence as she took Lance's arm and placed a foot firmly on his back. He faintly heard the words, "This might hurt, I've never done this," before she rotated Lance's arm in such a way that his shoulder slid right back into place. The pain in Keith's shoulder was virtually gone, replaced by a dull ache in his muscles. Allura plucked Lance off the ground and set him on his feet before running off again. 

Keith stood and went over to Lance. Upon closer inspection, Keith could see that Lance had a similarly swollen face, complete with bruising. Looking him dead in the eye, Keith said, "We need to talk after this gets wrapped up." Lance nodded mutely, eyeing Keith's jaw. Keith nodded once and rejoined the foray. 

* * *

Lance lost track of time. He could have been swinging and being swung at for minutes, hours, anything. He acquired several more bruises and welts, and maybe a cracked rib or two. For all he knew, it could have been Keith who'd acquired the injuries. Everything was a blur.

Everything until Shiro's voice, cutting through the pained grunts and shouts. "Fall back! Get everyone in the van-- _now_!"

The Galra redoubled their efforts, this time trying to block the route to the vehicle. Then Lance bore witness to something he would never be able to forget.

Shiro charged the gang members, winding up his fist, and knocked one out. The remaining Galra turned to him and went after him all at once. Shiro was buried in a sea of purple. But then a Galra was being picked up and swung around by an arm and his collar, knocking over several of his comrades. But it wasn't that that scared Lance; it was the look of pure, crazed bloodlust on Shiro's face. Every ounce of humanity he contained—and it was quite a lot—was gone, replaced by animalistic rage. His eyes were clouded over, and if Lance didn't know any better, he'd say he could see the red haze in the man's irises. Soon the Galra backed off and everyone piled in the van, Coran revving the engine and reversing well over the speed limit.

Everyone gawked at Shiro, who sat closest to the door, having been the last one in, chest heaving and sweat glistening on his exposed skin. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his head _thump_ back against the headrest.

Without opening his eyes, he asked in a surprisingly steady voice, "Is everyone alright?"

He must've taken the silence as an affirmative, because he let it go.

Lance shifted his gaze to Keith, who was watching his brother, the most concerned Lance had ever seen him. Lance didn't think about what it meant when he lifted his hand and set it on Keith's shoulder, and he sure didn't think about what it meant when Keith leaned into him and rested his head on Lance's shoulder.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a Big Yikes  
> also a Big TW for panic attacks  
> might be a good idea to check out the tags w every update from here on out cause shit's gettin p real

When Coran pulled up in front of Shiro and Allura's apartment, Keith made to get out and help. Allura held up a hand before he got too far, saying, "I've got him, Keith. Go home and rest. He'll be fine." 

Keith couldn't help the way his gaze sharpened into a glare. He and Shiro had always been there for each other, who the hell did she think she was to come between them now, after everything they'd been through-- 

His internal rant halted as a hand came to rest on his shoulder. "Hey, man. Allura'll take good care of him. She's not nearly in as bad a shape as you are. Let's go clean up and get some sleep, and we'll head over and see him tomorrow, 'kay?" 

Open blue eyes held his gaze and forced him to nod along with whatever Lance was saying. He needed to take care of himself before he could take care of anyone else. That made sense. And what were soulmates for if not taking care of each other? Keith sat back against the seat. He didn't notice that he was leaning against Lance until the van stopped by their dorms and Lance made to get up, only for Keith to slump over in his vacated spot. 

Lance smiled softly, helping him up by the arm. "Let's get you home, buddy." 

As soon as Keith's feet hit the ground, another set of hands grabbed him from the other side. "I've got him, thanks very much." 

Keith didn't miss the way Lance's face fell or the words muttered under his breath: "Yeah, sure, _now_ you do." 

He watched as Lance quickened his pace and left the door to shut behind him. 

"What a prick," Rolo sighed, tightening the arm around Keith's shoulders. 

Suddenly it was too much for Keith to handle. The arm trapping him against Rolo's side was too much. The words muttered in his ear were too much. Walking next to Rolo was too much.  

Keith tore the other man's arm off of him and ran in the direction opposite the building. He just needed to escape, to get away, he didn't care where he ended up. He ignored the solitary shout of his name. 

He kept running until his legs burned, and then kept running after that. 

When he finally stopped, it was only because he tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and faceplanted. He grit his teeth against the sob that threatened to break free of the confines of his throat. He got his feet back under him because he just needed to _move_ except now that they'd stopped he couldn't force his legs to start moving again and even though they burned he convinced himself they were restless and not overexerted and oh! One was finally cooperating-- 

He ended up on the ground once more, barely managing to catch himself before he ate cement. 

Then the little energy he had left and he decided to just lay there until he absolutely had to leave. 

 

* * *

  

Lance waited with bated breath as the staircase door clicked open and shut. He peered through the gap between his room door and the jamb, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of dark hair. Seeing none, he wrenched open the door, startling the blond who'd just gotten his key in the knob. 

"Lan--" 

"Where the hell is Keith?" he demanded, cutting off Rolo's question. 

"Fuck if I know. Took off after you left." 

Lance ran his hands through his hair, gripping the short strands. He wanted desperately to take off down the stairs but he just had to-- "I hope to god your shoes are always slightly damp." Then he was gone, through the door before Rolo could get his two cents in. 

 

It struck Lance that he didn't know much about Keith. So he hadn't the slightest where the other man would run off to. His legs burned even though he hadn't run that far. Plus, he was used to running long distances. It must be Keith. 

Keith, who Lance knew for a fact didn't run much, so who couldn't be that far. 

Pain bloomed in Lance's face, and he felt the bite of cement in his skin. His legs were carrying him to the sidewalk in front of the building before his mind caught up with what he was feeling. 

Little pinpricks of pain made themselves known on his legs, four on each, fingernails dug into the flesh of his calves. 

Blindly he picked a direction and took off down the sidewalk. 

 _C'mon, Keith, c'mon, c'mon... Where are you?_  

When it became clear that Keith wasn't there, he did a 180 without stopping and pumped his legs as fast as they could go. Sprinting had never been his strong suit, but damn if he wouldn't do anything for this boy. 

Then there was a tug on his hair, like someone was tearing it out, and invisible teeth bit into the flesh of his hand and he _really_ needed to get to Keith before he hurt himself any more than he already had. 

Up ahead, on the dark sidewalk, there was a darker splotch. Lance's heart lifted in his chest. 

 _Keith!_  

He skidded to a stop and slid on his knees, grabbing Keith by the arm and pulling him off the hard ground. 

"Kei--" 

Keith flung his arms around Lance's body before he could get a word out, squeezing him till he was gasping for breath that wouldn't come. Instead of complaining, like he knew he would in any other situation, he reciprocated the tight embrace. Keith sniffled loudly, and Lance swallowed, trying not to think about the snot that would surely be decorating his shirt. 

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, but when the first light of the day peeked out over the horizon, Lance gently extracted himself from Keith's grip. The other man wasn't willing to release him, however, so Lance slid his arm under Keith's knees and stood. 

This caused Keith to tighten his arms ever-so-slightly, but he didn't untuck his head from Lance's shoulder. 

Opening the dorm door was a challenge of its own. Lance ended up having to squat and tip Keith's legs higher than his head to grab the handle and twist it. He straightened, only slightly out of breath and proud of it.  

Then he saw the stairs. 

He shook his head and steeled himself. He would do this. For Keith. 

Left foot, right foot, left foot, right-- 

He jerked backwards to keep from falling forwards.  

"Keith, we're gonna walk up the stairs now, OK?" 

"Ng..." 

"What is it?" 

Keith pressed his face into Lance's neck and mumbled brokenly, "I don't... wanna go home--anymore..." 

"It's alright, buddy. We're gonna go to my room, alright?" 

A slight nod was all the indication Lance needed to set Keith down, keeping his arm wrapped tight round his middle. 

By the time they reached Lance's door, both of them were newly out of breath. Behind them, a door _snicked_  shut, and Lance didn't need to turn to know that Rolo had seen. 

Keith was out when Lance lay him in the bed and pulled the sheets up to his chin. He reached out gingerly and brushed dark hair out of his face. He flinched. Keith must have faceplanted earlier. 

"Mm..." Keith's mouth curved into a small smile as he leaned into Lance's touch. His breath caught and he retracted his hand as if he'd been burned, then backed out of the room, shutting the door quietly, and plopped on the couch. 

He wouldn't be sleeping for a while. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Waking up in Lance's bed the second time wasn't as shocking as the first. No, definitely not shocking, but there were new emotions accompanying Keith—building up inside him till he threatened to explode—this time around. Drawing his arms, and with them the blanket, closer to himself, Keith wasn't surprised to find his body aching; this was quite the common occurrence. The fruity cologne ingrained in the duvet, now pressed up against his nose, overwhelmed his senses--not overwhelming in the way things had been last night, but overwhelming in a way that made him feel whole and filled with warmth. He buried his nose in the scent, chasing it, sighing in contentment when he caught it.  

The sound of a hitched breath popped his brief bubble of comfort, and he sat up abruptly, propping himself on an elbow, eyes snapping open to see a tall, lean body standing frozen in the doorway. 

 _Lance._  

"Hey, sorry, I didn't know you were awake, I just..." Lance trailed off, uncertainty colouring his tone.  

"Came to grab something?" Keith supplied. 

He watched as Lance swallowed hard. "Y-yeah, that." 

Keith lay back down now that the excitement was over. His eyes tracked Lance's movements as he walked from the door to the dresser, opening a drawer and rooting around inside it. It shut with a soft _clack_ and Lance turned to face Keith once more. 

"H-how're you... feeling? Any better?" He chose his words carefully, almost like he thought he would set Keith off if he brought up the events of the previous night. 

"Yeah, much better. Thank you." Lance seemed reluctant to leave, so Keith added, "Usually when that happens, it's just a build-up of repressed emotions breaking through to the surface. After it's over, I don't really feel much." 

"Oh." Lance nodded, taking a few steps closer to the bed. "So when you said you were feeling better..." 

"I meant that I feel—" _—warm, and safe, and cared for._ "—happy." 

Lance met his eyes and breathed a soft _"Oh"_ at Keith's words. He was now seated on the bed, on the edge, close to where Keith lay. And just for a moment, both of them were content to sit in silence. Just for a moment, neither of them wanted to shatter this warm intimacy. Then Lance's eyes began to sparkle and a grin brightened his flushed face. 

"You know what would make you feel even better?" 

 _Not possible,_ Keith was tempted to say. Instead he played along, smiling softly. "What?" 

"If you made me breakfast." 

Keith blinked. Was it just him or was the moment completely ruined? Yup, it was gone, kaput, never to be seen again. "Lance what the fuck." 

"But Keeeith!" He clasped his hands together and leaned more into Keith's space. 

"I just woke up and you expect me to drag my aching ass out of bed and make you breakfast? Nope, I'm not having this." Keith rolled so he was facing away from Lance and burrowed back into the blanket. "Goodnight." 

"But it's ten a.m." 

"Good _night_." 

"Noo, Keith, I'm sorry! Come back!" He grabbed the blanket and gave a half-hearted attempt at pulling it off Keith, who resisted. "Forgive me!" 

"Mm-mm." Keith stuck his head under the blanket, suddenly hit with the realization that he and Lance were play-wrestling _on Lance's bed._ When had the two of them gotten so close, so comfortable around each other? Had they always been this way, and just too proud to admit they were capable of becoming friends? Like a pod of orcas closing in on a seal, the overwhelmed feeling was creeping back under Keith's skin, as was the understanding that he'd trapped himself on the ice sheet with no way to escape. 

"What'll it take for you to forgive me?" 

"Make me breakfast." 

"Oh, how the turntables..." 

"That's the only way I'll forgive you." 

Lance sat back, crossing his arms. "Really? Not a single thing to say about that?" 

Keith slid out from under the covers on the opposite side of the bed. Unlike last time, he didn't fall to the floor. "C'mon, I'm hungry." With that, he led the way to the kitchenette. 

Lance followed slowly, expression pinched. "You good?" 

"Fine." 

"You just seem kinda..." 

"You don't have to worry about me so much." 

"But we're friends; that's what friends do." 

"Do they?" he mused quietly, not intending for Lance to hear. 

"Yeah, that's kinda the whole point..." Lance moved closer. No. That was bad. Keith wished Lance would move back. He wished he could move back himself. "Keith, what's bothering you? We can work through it, whatever it is." 

Keith was still for a long moment, then he shook his head with a sigh. "Nothing, just... 'M thinkin' 'bout what I'm gonna tell Rolo. Y'know, about last night. I have to apologize for freaking out like that." 

"You don't have to apologize for that. Why would you even think that?" 

"It hurt him, when I left. And then I didn't even go and see if he was alright afterwards. On top of all that, he didn't even have to come save Shay. I dragged him into it. He doesn't know her and he doesn't owe any of us anything and—" 

"Keith." Lance's firm voice and firmer grip on his shoulders interrupted his tirade. 

He took a breath and said, "Please don't touch me right now." 

Immediately, Lance's hands were gone. "First off, you think you had to make sure _he_ was alright? When _you_ were the one having, I don't know, a panic attack or something? And second, you didn't _'drag him into it;'_ he was all for it. Did you notice he came out of it unscathed?" 

"What're you—" 

"You don't owe him an apology, Keith. You don't owe him anything. In fact, it seems to me _he's_ the one that owes you an apology, for letting you run and leaving you out there alone." 

Keith set his jaw and stared blankly at the spot between Lance's eyes. 

Lance heaved a heavy sigh. "Whatever, Keith. Your relationship isn't any of my business. Let's just eat." He moved to the fridge and asked, "Whaddaya want? We've got bacon, eggs, sausages... Eggos, uh... cereal—" He broke off when he heard shuffling behind him, and turned to see Keith sliding his shoes and jacket on.  

"I should get home. Rolo's probably worried." His voice was flat, void of emotion. 

Lance's eyebrows furrowed. "Keith... You should at least eat first." 

"I'll just grab something at home. I have food there, too, y'know."  

He had the door open already and was halfway out of it when Lance exclaimed, as a last-ditch attempt to get Keith to stay, "But—you said I had to make you breakfast, so you'd forgive me." 

The only response he got was a tired, "Yeah, I know," before the door shut softly. 

Oh, how Lance wished Keith had slammed it. Because at least then he would have seemed _alive_. But no, Keith had shut it gently, almost soundlessly, even twisting the doorknob so the latch didn't click.  

Oh, how Lance wished, maybe selfishly, Keith had slammed it. Because the guilt at having been the one to cause Keith to appear so lifeless was eating him alive. 

Oh, how Lance wished Keith had slammed it, instead of easing it closed, with no sound to indicate it had truly shut. 

Oh, how Lance wished Keith had slammed the door. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *eye emoji*

Keith pulled the door shut behind him. Usually his fights with Lance left him amped up and his blood singing with adrenaline, but this fight was different. It left him exhausted, bone-deep, as if he hadn't slept at all. He should've known his brief bout of happiness wouldn't last. 

He took the few steps to his door, hesitating before opening it. There was Rolo, lounging on the couch. He looked up when he heard the door shut. For a long moment, he didn't say anything, waiting for Keith to explain himself, maybe. Then, "What the fuck." 

Keith flinched. "I-I'm sorry..." 

 _"'Sorry?'"_  Rolo gaped at him incredulously. "That's _it_?" 

"I'm sorry," Keith said, ducking his head, "for freaking out on you last night, and not coming home after." 

"So what was all that about, then? Why'd you spaz out and run?" Rolo studied him, blue eyes piercing as shards of glass. Their icy depths raised goosebumps on Keith's skin. 

"I..."  

Keith didn't want to tell him. It had always been a secret between brothers, him and Shiro. Keith had never trusted Rolo with any of his secrets before, why should that change now? But... Keith did owe him an explanation, and he couldn't very well give one without revealing that vital piece of information. 

Against his better judgement, he drew a deep, shuddering breath and opened his mouth: "I have pa—" 

From inside his pocket, his phone began to play Kansas. 

 _Carry on my wayward son, there'll be peace when you are done..._  

The song had always reminded Keith of Shiro, telling him to be patient and give thought to his actions. 

"S-sorry, I have to take this..." He pressed the green button and brought the phone to his ear. "Shiro? What's up?" 

 _"I could ask you the same."_ Despite the sorry attempt at a tension-relieving joke, Keith detected notes of concern in his voice. 

"What do you—" 

 _"Lance told me what happened when you got to your dorm."_  

Oh. 

That would explain it. 

Keith sighed. "Look, can you call back? I'm—" 

 _"Apologizing to Rolo for having a mental illness?"_  

Keith squeezed his eyes shut. If he could just get _two words in_ — 

 _"I'm coming over, OK? This is my announcement, so don't act surprised when I get there."_  

"No, Shiro, It's really not a good time—" 

 _"That's exactly why I'm coming. See you in a few."_   

The _click_ in his ear told him Shiro had hung up, leaving no room for argument, as per usual. Keith let out a heavy breath before raising his eyes to meet Rolo's. "I'm sorry, I have to go..." 

"Of course you do. I don't know why I expected anything else."  

"I don't have time for this." Keith made to open the door. 

Rolo let out a sound akin to a growl, running a hand down his face. "Keith, I'm your boyfriend, and that means you have to spend time with me, too, not just some idiot with a crush on you." 

"You think I don't know that?" He whirled to face the other man, a glare colouring his expression. 

"No, I really don't think you do." 

"Well, fuck you, then. I don't owe you anything," he spat, finally getting the door open and slamming it behind him. He stormed down the hall and the stairs, wrenching open the front door just as Shiro was opening it. 

"Keith—" 

"Let's go," he growled. 

"Keith, hang on, what's—" 

"Let's _go_." He led Shiro back to the truck and hopped in, slamming that door, too. Shiro joined him, shutting the door at a more acceptable level of volume. 

"What happened up there? Did you tell him? Did he react badly?" 

 _"No,"_ Keith ground out through his teeth. "I didn't get the chance to because he started _lecturing_ me. All, _'I'm your boyfriend, spend time with me,'_ and _'all your friends are idiots.'_ " Maybe that last part wasn't exactly what Rolo'd said, but it was what Keith had heard nonetheless. 

"I'm sure he didn't—" 

"Come on, then, get it over with." 

"Get... what over with?" 

"Aren't you gonna lecture me too? About how I don't owe him anything, least of all an apology? About how he's no good for me, what with the way he treats me? About how I don't even know if I—if I've ever—" He cut himself off, scared of the words he'd been about to speak. 

Beside him, Shiro's eyes widened. Wordlessly, he handed Keith a tissue, which brought Keith to the realization that he'd started sobbing sometime during his rant. He used the tissue to blow his nose, and wiped his face with his shirt sleeve. 

"God, what the fuck is _wrong_ with me? I'm so fucked up, I swear to god..." Keith continued to sob quietly, and Shiro continued to not say a word, letting Keith get it out of his system. 

When his sobs were silenced and his breath was more or less even, Shiro lay a hand on Keith's shoulder and firmly said, "You are _not_ fucked up, Keith. You're just... _Keith_." 

Shiro's words held within them an echo of Lance's, a parallel of earlier that day. 

 _You don't owe him an apology, Keith. You don't owe him anything._  

It had guilt swirling in his stomach and crawling up his throat, choking him. "Oh, god, _Lance_." At Shiro's confused head tilt, he explained, "I fucked up so bad with him, Shiro. I... We fought—nothing new—but I was so... so _bad_ to him. He was only trying to help, I know that now, but... but in the moment it felt like he was attacking me, and I... I didn't... _lash out,_ but..." Keith paused, shaking his head. "I have to apologize. Because this time it's _actually_ my fault." He reached for the door handle, only to be stopped by Shiro's hand on his other shoulder. "You have to let me do this. I fucked up and I need to fix it." 

"I know. And I will. But first you need to calm down. You're too worked up to go in there and deliver an adequate apology. Lance might not accept it if you go in right now, and that'll only make things worse. So in the meantime, what d'you say to a day with your big bro to help calm your nerves?" 

Keith couldn't fight his smile even if he wanted to. "I say, never call yourself 'big bro' again and you've got a deal." 

 

Allura was out when they entered her and Shiro's apartment. "Shopping," Shiro had said when Keith asked.  

 _At Shiro's request,_ Keith silently filled in. He was grateful to be alone with his brother, though. 

"So, what's on the to-do list?" Shiro asked as Keith flopped on the couch. 

"Hmm..." Keith's eyes roved the living room, landing on the dingy Wii they'd had as kids sitting under the TV stand. His eyes, now containing a mischievous glint, slid back over to Shiro. "Mariokart?" 

Shiro laughed. "The whole point of you coming over here is to calm you down, not get you riled back up." 

Ah. He had a point. They both knew how Keith got when he played Mariokart. 

"How about that show you like?" Shiro suggested. "Open files?" 

Keith straightened, eyes wide. " _Unsealed: Alien Files?_ But you never wanna watch that." 

"Well," Shiro said, spreading his fingers and shrugging, "better decide quick before I change my mind." 

That had Keith scrambling for the remote, booting up the Wii and clicking into Netflix faster than he ever had in his life. No way was he passing up an opportunity to let Shiro in on his favourite pass-time. 

"Baloney! That's so obviously a satellite!" Shiro gestured angrily at the TV as he spoke. 

"Oh, _please,_ look how big it is! You think satellites look that big when they're in _space_?" 

"I know a UFO when I see one, and _that_ is _not_ a UFO." 

"You wouldn't know a UFO if it crashed through your wall." 

Shiro crossed his arms, grumbling quietly, but didn't argue. 

When they'd finished a few more episodes, Shiro spoke again: "OK, that one, I see no other explanation for." 

"I _told_ you UFOs are real!" 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Shiro stood and stretched. "Can we take a lunch break now, or are you not done yet?" 

"You're just mad cause your _baby bro_ knew something you didn't," Keith teased. "And it's closer to dinner than it is to lunch; it's four—it's _four_?!"  

"Man, you really do get in to that show. You hardly noticed how many we watched, did you?" 

"So are we eating dinner or not?" Keith followed Shiro's lead and stretched, changing the subject. 

Shiro decided not to pursue this argument and led the way into the kitchen. 

 

They were eating in a comfortable silence—at least they  _had been_ until Shiro broke it. 

"Are you feeling up to going home tonight? Maybe apologizing to Lance?" 

Keith twirled a noodle with his fork, contemplating this. 

"You can always spend the night here, if you need to," Shiro reminded him. 

Keith shook his head. "No, I shouldn't. And I have to apologize to Lance before he stews in negativity for too long." 

Shiro nodded. "Alright." 

Keith poked at a piece of chicken and peeked up at Shiro, seated across from him. "You're not gonna make me stay to make sure I've cooled off completely?" 

Shiro met Keith's gaze and held it as he said, "I trust you to make the right decision, Keith. I don't think of you as a child anymore. I know you're good now, because you said you are. When you're not good, you never say that. You can't lie when you're in a bad way. So, I believe you." 

Keith swallowed, dropping his stinging eyes to the plate in front of him. "Thanks, Shiro," he whispered. 

After they'd eaten and cleaned the dishes, Shiro drove Keith home. They sat in Shiro's pickup and said their goodbyes. 

"Remember," Shiro was saying for the fifth time that night, "if you can't stay, call me and I'll bring you home. Alright?" 

"Al _right_ , Shiro, I get it." Keith rolled his eyes, but it was fond and he was smiling. "I'm gonna go now, before he falls asleep." He stepped out and waved to his brother as he pulled away. 

He took the stairs slowly this time, turning over his words in his head. But when he knocked on Lance's door, there was no answer. So he tried again.  

"Lance?" He called. "It's me, Keith. Are you in there? Can we talk?" 

Still no reply. 

He knocked once more, just in case. This time, the door swung open, but instead of being faced with a tall Cuban man, he was being faced with a short, East Indian man. 

"Uh, hey... Slav, was it? Is Lance in the—" 

"Would you stop being so loud? It is late and I am _trying_ to do research." 

"Right, sorry about that... Listen, is Lance—" 

"He is not here. Before he left, he said to pass on a message. He said: _'If the Mullet-Man comes looking for me, tell him to bug off and that I'm not home.'_ Goodnight." With that, Slav shut the door. 

"O...K, then..." Keith paused for a moment, touching the back of his hair— _Mullet-Man?_ —, then turned and went into his own dorm. When he shut the door, Rolo stood. "Look, about earlier, I'm—" 

"No, there's no need to apologize. I should be the one apologizing. I know I'm not the only important thing in your life. I shouldn't've gone off like that." 

Keith was taken aback. This was the last thing he'd been expecting. "It's... fine. I'm not mad about it anymore." 

"Oh, good. Wanna come watch this with me?" 

Keith went and sat next to Rolo on the couch, not exactly far away from him but not quite close enough to be considered romantic.  

Halfway through the episode, Rolo's phone vibrated with an incoming call. He picked it up off the table and hid the screen upon seeing the caller ID. He stood and went to the door. "Shit. I gotta take this. You can keep watching without me." 

Keith nodded mutely. He didn't find this show very interesting, but he and Rolo were finally getting along and he didn't want to ruin that again. But after the day he'd had, his eyes were getting heavy. He let them droop shut and welcomed the dark void of a dreamless sleep. 

 

* * *

 

Lance hadn't planned on getting back this late, but what could ya do? If you were asked by Hunk to try out his recipes, you couldn't say no. And neither could Lance. 

Slav didn't look up from his research when Lance walked in. "I gave the Mullet-Man your message." 

"He actually came? I-I mean, thanks. I knew he would come begging to have me back." Lance grinned and shucked off his jacket. Then he heard the door across the hall open and shut, and he couldn't rein in his curiosity. He padded over to the door and put his eye to the peephole. There stood Rolo, phone against his ear. Lance couldn't quite make out what he was saying, so he pressed his ear against the edge of the door. Bingpot. 

"—no, I got this, he's totally buying it—hey, don't forget who arranged that one—yeah, OK, maybe it didn't go exactly to plan but it didn't completely discourage them, either—no, you listen to me, they're gonna try again, I know it. They're not the types to give up on their friends, and this girl is basically one of their girlfriends. Man, you shoulda seen how torn up that big guy was over it—absolutely hilarious! Anyways, I should get going, don't wanna spend too much time away from my _boyfriend_."  

His parting words were said in a mocking tone that made Lance taste bile. Everything he'd just heard made his skin prickle and his stomach heave. 

Rolo stepped back into his dorm, going back to— 

 _Keith._ His _boyfriend_. 

At least one thing Rolo had said was right: the people Lance chose to surround himself with would never give up on a friend. 

And that's exactly why he had to warn Keith. 

Because they were friends, and that's what friends _do_. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so the reason it took me so long to write/upload this is... I’m working on Keith’s backstory! and apparently it really helps me write when I plot out the story? cause I plotted his backstory and in a week I’ve almost doubled the word count of this entire story. so to thank you for your patience, here’s a longer chapter  
> (and you can thank @itsnotmysweater over on tumblr for that scene at the end there... also she’s got super art so you should check that out!)  
> as per usual, there’s a CW for violence, blood, self-harm, and panic attacks

_You can do this. You were going to do it last night. You can do it today._

Keith paced the length of his room, hands fisted in his hair, psyching himself up and writing and rewriting apologies in his head. Why was he so worked up? It was Lance he was apologizing to—although, maybe that _was_ the reason he was freaking out. He heaved a breath in and out, shaking his entire arms to loosen his stress-tight muscles. He forced his feet to carry him out of the bedroom and to the front door. 

Rolo glanced up from his phone. "Going somewhere?" 

"Uh—yeah, I have an errand to run." Keith opened the door only to see Lance stood on the other side, fist raised to knock. 

He had a panicked look on his face: eyes wide, cheeks flushed, pulse point pounding. "Keith! I really have to talk to you!"  

"Uh, yeah, of course." Keith shut the door behind himself. "Is Slav here?" 

"No. Why don't we go into my room?" 

Keith felt his earlier anxiety creep back under his skin, lighting his nerve endings on fire, and he grabbed Lance's wrist and towed him into the other room. 

"You'll never believe what I heard—" 

"Actually, can I go first?" At Lance's go-ahead, Keith started his apology. "About last night... I'm sorry for getting all weird and rude on you. I don’t know why, but suddenly I just felt... smothered and overwhelmed and... I shouldn't've shut down like that. Especially after you helped me calm down, and let me sleep in your bed, and tried to make me breakfast again." 

"What? Keith, no. Last night's on me. I obviously made you uncomfortable, and I pushed you about your relationship with Rolo. I should've realized that in the moment and stopped. I'm sorry." 

Keith let his gaze slide to the floor and worried his lip. "I'm still sorry." A beat of silence passed before he prompted, "So what did you have to tell me?" 

Lance's remorseful expression morphed into a grave one. "Look, I really don't mean to hurt you by saying this..." 

Well shit. 

"But... Last night, when I got home, I heard Rolo talking on the phone in the hallway, and... He said something like, he's got it under control and not to worry, and these people will do anything to save their friend, so they'll be trying again like a bunch of idiots. And he was making fun of Hunk for being so worried about Shay, which is just—" He made a sharp, vague gesture. "Anyways, right at the end he said he had to get back to _his boyfriend_." He spat the last words mockingly, probably imitating how Rolo had said them.  

Keith blinked, at a complete loss of words. Rolo... had said all that? About Keith and his friends? And then had walked back into their dorm and cuddled up with Keith so casually, as if he wasn't plotting something? Keith stumbled backwards and let Lance guide him to the sofa. Numbness crept up his spine from his legs and through to his arms. His heartbeat flooded his ears and shook his vision. 

"...eith?" 

He'd trusted Rolo, and what had Rolo done with that trust, so painstakingly earned? Essentially told Keith to shove it up his ass and go fuck himself.  

"Kei..." 

This was exactly why Keith had surrounded himself with walls in the first place. First his mother, then his father, and now his boyfriend. Boyfriend? Could he call Rolo that when it had all been a lie? 

"Keith!" 

Lance's face swam into view, materializing from his blurred vision.  

"Hey, buddy, I know this is bad, but can you try to calm down for me? C'mon, let's take a deep breath in... and out. In... and out. That's great, you're doing great. A few more now..." 

Keith hardly realized his breathing was getting out of control, bordering on hyperventilation, until Lance pointed it out.  

"Is it OK if I touch you? I'm just gonna wipe your face, alright?" 

The brush of a tissue across his skin, soaking up the tears he hadn't realized he'd been crying and the snot he hadn't realized had been oozing from his nose. Soft hands on his now-dry cheeks, brushing his mussed hair from his face and tucking it behind his ears. He closed his eyes, let out one last deep breath. Opened them, and there was Lance, kneeling on the floor in front of him, eyebrows upturned and gaze watery. 

"Better?" he asked. 

"Better," Keith croaked. "Thank you." 

"Hey, anytime, buddy. I'm here for you." 

Keith closed his eyes again, reaching up and placing his hands on Lance's grounding ones, still on his cheeks, and leaning forward to rest his forehead on the taller boy's. 

 

"Going out again?" 

"Yep." Keith shut the door before Rolo could get another word in. He was going to meet up with his friends in the café, but first, he stopped at Lance's door. 

"You ready?" Concerned blue eyes studied him, darting around his face. 

"I think so." 

"We'll roll with it." 

Their walk to the café was silent but not the least bit awkward. Funny how they'd gone from not being able to be in the same room to sharing comfortable silences. 

As the small building came into sight, Keith stopped, Lance not realizing until after he'd taken a few more steps. 

"What's up? Do you not wanna go? Cause you absolutely don't have to." 

"No, I want to go. It's not that. Just... after, can we talk? About... y'know. Us?" 

The question seemed to catch Lance off guard. He blinked a few times, colour rising in his cheeks. "Um, yeah. Yeah, sure, of course. That's. That's a good idea. A very good one." 

Keith allowed himself a small smile at Lance's rambling and opened the café door. "Good. I'm glad you agree." 

Everyone was already there, and when Keith and Lance walked in, Hunk asked, "Where’s Rolo? Should we wait for him?" 

Keith hesitated, bit his lip.  

Thankfully, Lance had his back. "He’s not coming." 

"Oh, that's too bad." Hunk frowned, but surprisingly didn't press the matter. Shiro, on the other hand, fixed his brother with a hard stare that meant, _we're talking about this later_. 

Keith shook his head. Shiro wouldn't have to corner him afterwards. The whole reason they'd called this emergency meeting was to discuss Rolo. 

When Keith took a seat on the loveseat, he was glad that Lance chose to sit next to him. This boy gave him the confidence he needed to say what he said next. 

"Rolo... isn't on our side." 

In the silence that followed, Keith clenched his fists, the nails of one hand digging into the material of his jeans. Lance, of course, noticed and gently pried it off, holding it tightly in his own hand instead. Under normal circumstances, Keith might have worked his hand free of Lance's hold, but right now, he was too tense and too grateful for the comfort and the concern to even entertain the idea of rejecting him. 

"He's what?" Shiro was the first to break the silence. 

"Lance heard him on the phone the other night, saying... just... It was bad. I don't wanna get into specifics, but the gist of it is: he's Galra. Or at least working with them, which is bad enough. The whole reason we were ambushed when we went to save Shay was he let them know we'd be there. So we can't let him in on our plans from now on." 

He hadn't realized he'd been squeezing Lance's hand so hard until he felt the painful pressure in his own hand. He forced the muscles to relax, for Lance's sake. 

"Geez, Keith, I'm sorry..." He looked up from the floor to see Pidge fixing him with sorrowful eyes, reaching out like she wanted to hug him even though she was seated on the other side of the table. 

"It's—" Fine? It was so far from fine, and everyone knew it. "—not your fault." 

"Yeah, I know, but still." Her gaze landed on where Keith's and Lance's hands were interlaced, and Keith saw the moment it clicked behind her eyes. She didn't say anything, instead just gave him The Look. The same one Shiro had given him earlier. This time, he nodded. He definitely wanted and needed to talk about this with somebody. But _after_ he and Lance did. 

"Alright, everybody! Drinks are on me!" Coran came bustling up, holding a tray full of drinks that he proceeded to hand out cheerfully, not noticing anyone's grim expressions until he'd handed out the last cup. "Why the long faces? Did I miss something?" 

"I'll fill you in later, Coran," Allura murmured, giving her uncle a meaningful look. What was it with everyone communicating everything through looks today? 

"Ah. I see." Coran didn't press any further and left soon after that.  

Hunk was fiddling with his phone. He slid it back into his pocket with a triumphant smirk. "Report, block, delete." 

Keith smiled. His friends always had his back, even when he was just the weird, loner kid who sometimes hung out with them but never said anything. What did he ever do to deserve them? 

 

Keith left the café early. He couldn't stand the pitying glances everyone kept sending him, and just sitting there relaxing when there were things to be done didn't sit well with him. Not ten minutes after he'd come clean about Rolo, his skin had started to thrum and his mind to buzz. No matter how many times he forced his leg to still, it would start up bouncing again. Lance reached over to still his leg, but the nervous energy kept building and building and now he had no outlet. Not if the two of them stopped his leg from bouncing and his fingers from carving into his skin. 

He set off at a brisk pace after giving them some bullshit excuse he couldn't even remember. It probably hadn't made sense when he'd said it. The burn in his legs helped alleviate the tension but he still needed more of a release. His mind flashed to razorblades and blood, things he used to surround himself with, but he quickly pushed the idea away. That was not good. He'd sworn off that kind of self-harm. It had gotten him nowhere but a therapist's office. Besides, he'd always hated the floating feeling blood loss left him with. 

No, what he really needed was a trip to the gym. Thankfully there was one in the dorm that almost no one visited. Unable to contain himself, he let the buzzing, thrumming energy carry his legs into a run. That was almost better—the more intense burn in his legs and the new one in his lungs. Almost, but not quite.  

He reached the dorm in record time, shaking fingers fumbling over his keys in his rush to unlock the door. But finally, _finally_ , the door admitted him and the stale inside air flooded his lungs. He forced himself to walk at a normal pace—didn't want people getting suspicious. The rest of his walk to the gym was a blur—suddenly he was in front of the punching bag, fists raised, thoughts running rampant. 

 _You failed._  

Keith wound up and swung, hard as he could, revelling in the feeling of split knuckles against the material of the bag.  

 _Who knows what they’ll do to her now?_  

He ground his teeth together and swung harder with his other hand; he barely registered the pain. He needed to go harder.  

_All because you couldn’t bear to be alone._

His voice ripped its way from his throat as a wordless shout. His entire hands felt bruised but it wasn’t enough.  

 _All because you chose the one person you shouldn’t have._   

He grunted with every swing of his fists, deaf to the sounds of his own voice and skin breaking.  

 _All because the one person you thought you could trust was the one person you shouldn't._  

He didn’t realize he was crying until the tears met under his chin and dripped onto his knee.  

 _And you fell right into that trap like a mouse who’d found the cheese._   

Finally he attained that grounding pain. His knuckles were blue-and-purple bruised, red where the skin had broken. He needed more.  

 _You endangered every single one of your friends._   

His fist connected with the bag, hard, and he delighted in the loud _crack_ that resounded in the small room.  

 _All because you thought you could be wanted by someone._   

His throws gradually weakened, until they stopped altogether, one fist still resting against the punching bag. A sob wracked his body. Then another, and another, until he dissolved into a snotty, sniffling mess on the floor, held up only by the small amount of strength remaining in his body. Eventually even that left him, and he collapsed onto the hardwood.  

He didn't know how long he'd been laying there before he heard a choked sound from the doorway.  

"Keith, ohmigod are you OK?!" Then there were hands on his shoulders, rolling him onto his back, exposing him, his vulnerability. It barely registered in his mind that this was _Lance_ as he shoved the body away and recoiled from the prodding hands and probing questions. 

"Whoa!" Lance exclaimed as he fell backwards onto his ass. "Keith, what's wrong?" He scrambled to his feet as Keith rose to his, flinching under the weight of his glare. "What the hell, dude? What'd I do? Why're you so angry?" 

 _As if he didn't already know._  

Keith narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists, settling into a fighting stance.  

"What... are you doing?" There was nothing but confusion and apprehension in Lance's voice. 

"Fight me." 

"Ex... cuse me?" 

"Fucking. Fight. Me." 

"Dude, I'm not gonna fight you. You're clearly not in your right mind." 

"Fuck off with that bullshit and fucking fight me, you bitch!" 

 _Finally, a reaction._  

Reaction, indeed. Lance's face crackled with barely contained anger. "I don't know what your deal is, but you're really starting to tick me off. Is this because of... him?" 

The way Keith grit his teeth and growled most likely gave it away. 

"Are you quite aware I'm not him?" 

"Yes, I fucking know, Lance! Now fight me before I _make_ you!" 

The anger sizzled to the surface. Lance's pencil-thin eyebrows twitched. "Fuck this. I'm out." 

Before he could leave, Keith lunged at him, tackling him to the floor. Lance let out a shout and struggled to roll onto his back. He brought his arms up to protect his face from Keith's flying fists. He managed to catch one and get his leg up high enough to kick Keith off of him. A wave of pain shot up Lance's spine as Keith hit the floor. Keith only got his feet underneath himself and shot at Lance, who rolled out of the way just in time. His arm protested as Keith used his own to stop himself eating the floor. Keith's arm buckled and his face hit the cool tile anyway. 

Lance jumped up and shouted, "Can't you see what you're doing? By hurting me you're only hurting yourself—" 

Keith followed Lance to his feet and grabbed the other man by the collar of his shirt, winding up his arm. "Don't you think I know that?" His line reminded him of some fight he'd had with Rolo, and instead of thinking about what that meant, he wanted to smash Lance's crooked teeth in.  

As his fist made contact with Lance's face, pain exploded across Keith's own, so he did it again. And again. And again. He deserved this. It was all his fucking fault, and if he couldn't get Lance to hurt him, he'd do it himself. It only took a few punches for him to get Lance to hit him back. And it hurt almost as much as he'd wanted it to. 

Eventually, as he knew he would, he tired himself out. His arm dropped from Lance's shirt and hit the floor. He'd scarcely realized that they'd fallen to the floor when Keith had kicked Lance's legs out from under him. Keith slumped against his chest, cradling his bruised and bloodied hand. Dimly he noted he was sobbing again. Under him, Lance was deathly still. He was scared to look at the boy's face lest he discover the damage he'd inflicted upon him. 

"Oh, Lance..." His voice shook, barely made a sound, but was too loud in the now-quiet room. Slowly, Keith raised his head and took in the sight of Lance's face, beaten bloody on one side. Keith could feel that on his own face but knew it didn't look half as bad. Fresh tears broke free from his ducts and spilled down his cheeks and onto Lance's. "Oh god, Lance, I'm so sorry, oh god..." 

Gingerly, he laid a hand on Lance's unmarked cheek. Lance didn't react, just kept staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling, expression stony. Keith pressed their foreheads together and pushed his hand behind Lance's head to cradle it.  

"Oh, god, what've I done?" 

 

Lance allowed Keith to help him back up the stairs and to his room. Keith led him to the bed and sat him on it, then went to get the First-Aid kit. He wiped the wounds in silence, avoiding Lance's empty stare. He took it as a good sign—a sign that he was, in fact, still alive—when Lance flinched as Keith applied the anti-bacterial. 

When Keith had finished, he sat back on his heels and placed his hands in his lap, head tilted back to stare at Lance. He whispered the name of the boy sitting on the bed, trying to get his attention without shattering the illusion of peace that blanketed the room. Lance didn't so much as blink. 

Keith wouldn’t give up on him, the same way Lance hadn't given up on him just days ago. "Lance," he said, louder this time. "I-I'm... I'm sorry. And I know that doesn’t cut it, but for what it's worth, I really am sorry and I really do regret what I did. I... I'm gonna... head, then."  

He stood, nearly jumping out of his skin when a hand wrapped around his wrist. "Lance?" 

"You can't just do that." The hand dropped from his wrist. "You don't get to run yourself into the ground, beat the shit out of me, apologize and leave." 

Keith opened his mouth to—what, he didn't know. Apologize? 

"Don't even think about saying sorry again, because you're right: sorry doesn't cut it." 

"What can I do then?" he whispered. 

"Explain to me why you thought it was OK to exercise till you were nearly unconscious and then, when I tried to help you, fight me." At Keith's silence, he leapt to his feet and shouted, "Why the _fuck_ would you do that? Did you think I deserved it? For _what_?" 

"No, Lance, no. I've never thought you deserved it." 

"Then _what_?" 

Keith opened his mouth and at first, nothing came out. Then, before he could word his thoughts, his thoughts were wording themselves and pouring from his lips. " _I'm_ the one that deserved it. _I'm_ the one that was dating Rolo, who was _spying_ on us and feeding intel to the Galra, who stopped us trying to save our friend and her family. All of this is my fault. If I hadn't gone out with him on a stupid dare, then we could've saved Shay already. Just think about it, Lance: because I let my emotions get the better of me, Shay and her family are suffering, and so is Hunk." 

He couldn't bear to look Lance in the eye, to see the look of disgust and betrayal lurking there. 

"You're a fucking idiot." 

Keith's head snapped up and his brows furrowed. 

"There's no way this is your fault. How could you have known Rolo was Galra? It's _his_ fault for deceiving you and letting Shay stay captive. Get it out of your head that this is all on you, because it's not. Where did you even _get_ that idea?" Lance shook his head. "That still doesn't explain why you attacked me." 

"I wore myself out with the punching bag, but it wasn't enough. I didn't have it in me. So when you walked in, I saw an opportunity. If I could get you to hurt me, it would be enough." 

"Why would I hurt you when I'd be hurting myself as well?" 

"I wasn't thinking about that in the moment. All I could think about was hurting myself, punishing myself." 

He averted his gaze, ashamed of what he had just admitted. When Lance failed to say anything, Keith's fingers slowly curled in on themselves without his knowing. Who knew what he could be thinking right now? What if he thought Keith was weak, or pathetic, or— 

"Ugh, _Keith_." Lance's muffled groan piqued Keith's interest enough for him to glance up. Lance had covered his face with a hand and his shoulders sagged. "You can't just—hurt yourself like that. It's not good. I can't stand the idea of you hurting yourself, or even just hurting. How can you bear the pain?" 

Keith swallowed, hard. Shrugged. "I..." 

"Do you wanna hurt me, too?" 

He could do nothing but shake his head resolutely. 

"Then stop hurting yourself. Please." And Lance gave Keith such a pleading gaze that he felt his walls crumble and disintegrate. Tears welled up in his eyes and his voice was no more than a whisper when he spoke. 

"It doesn't work that way." 

"I know. God, I know. But I wish it did." 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up in case y'all haven't noticed:  
> 1, there's a new work in this series and it's keith's backstory  
> 2, i've changed allura and shiro to platonic soulmates. i've been meaning to do it for a really long time (like ever since i heard allura was actually a teenager) but just never got around to it till now. all the edits i made are small, not story-altering (well... yet). all the chapters with edits are marked but all you really need to know is they're really good friends and roommates but that's it, there's no funny business there. i've tried to remove/edit the romantically-coded scenes between them but if you feel they're still romantic, please lmk and i'll get on that.

Keith had gone back to his and Rolo’s dorm after his fight with Lance. He felt empty from his breakdown, too empty to even feel the bruising and aches he knew must have been all over his body. 

He avoided Rolo’s gaze as he passed through the living room/kitchen, shutting his bedroom door quietly behind him. All the emotions that were probably swirling around inside him, hurricane-like in their intensity, made him think he should cry, sob, until he dry-heaved.

But there was nothing, as far as he knew.

He settled into bed, wrapping the sheets around himself and burying his nose in them, like he had that morning in Lance’s bed. God, Lance was always so good to him, so kind and caring and understanding. Keith didn’t deserve it, not in the slightest. Every time he had a good thing going for him, he ruined it with his stupid emotions and his stupid panicking. How and why did Lance put up with him? If Keith ever met someone like himself, he couldn’t imagine that he’d be patient for very long. He’d probably end up tearing the person a new one within the first five minutes of their meeting.

And yet, even with all Keith’s mistakes and flaws, Lance forgave him every single time. But he’d fucked up so badly this time around... Keith pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes to staunch the stinging behind them, and there—his battered hands twinged at the contact. He pulled them away from his face immediately, not wanting to hurt Lance.

Lance, his soulmate. He had so many feelings about that. How had they not talked about it yet? It was long overdue. The moment they’d found out had been about... a week, week and a half ago? Way too long, in Keith’s opinion, for unsaid words to stew. He resolved that he would seek out Lance—after he was forgiven, if he could be forgiven—and tell him everything he felt.  Keith didn’t even know what he would say. He didn’t know what he felt. Maybe he should think about this on a day where he hasn’t had a mental breakdown.

He sank further into his comforter, trying to get as much comfort from its weight as possible. He just really needed to feel grounded in that moment. That was also a part of his self-destructive tendencies. If he could feel pain, he was alive, he was _there_ , not floating away on a cloud of numbness. No matter what, he never wanted to be numb.

Even though his body was heavier than stone, his mind buzzed with thoughts. He selfishly wanted to call Shiro and tell him about his most recent fuck-up, if only just to hear his brother say he wasn’t a total waste of space and his friends would still want him. He wanted to knock on Lance’s door and burrow into his bright-smelling sheets and be wrapped in the warm embrace of solid arms and stay there until he absolutely had to get up.

But he couldn’t do any of that. Shiro had had to deal with Keith since Keith had been eight, and Keith didn’t want to bother and burden his brother further. Lance wouldn’t want to deal with his sorry ass anymore, after everything Keith had done to him and put him through.

Keith lay there, staring up at the ceiling, only drifting off to sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

Keith wasn’t expecting Lance to be waiting for him when he left his dorm the next morning, but there he was. Defying all expectations, as usual.

“Hey, man,” Lance greeted casually, as though nothing had happened the night before.

Keith grunted in reply and started walking. Lance kept pace with him.

“So did you ever get around to writing the paper? I sure as hell didn’t. Oh fuck, it’s due today, isn’t it? Shit.”

Keith had, in fact, written the paper. A very short paper, but a paper nonetheless.

“Oh, well. The prof seems to like me well enough. Hopefully she’ll let it slide... again. Gah, how many times has she let it slide? Let’s see, there was that one time I had the flu, and that other time I blacked out for like a whole weekend, and then there was—”

“Lance.” Keith stopped walking to fix the other man with a hard but understanding look. “You don’t have to do this.”

“What? Do what? I’m not doing anything.”

“You don’t have to keep talking to me.”

Lance’s expression fell. “Oh. I see. This is one of those, _just stop talking, Lance, I’ve had enough of your voice_ things, isn’t it? Next time just tell me straight-up to shut my mouth.”

“What? No, Lance, I—” _—could listen to your voice for hours._ “You don’t have to pretend to like me. I know you hate me, and you have every right to!” Keith threw up his hands as Lance opened his mouth, presumably to defend himself. “You shouldn’t feel bad about it. It’s not your fault. And it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.” He gripped his bag strap. “I’ll see you around, I guess.”

Lance grabbed his shoulder as he took a few steps further down the hall. “Keith, stop. I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you, actually.”

Keith faced him, surprise colouring his features. “But—but I always hurt you! Why wouldn’t you hate me?”

Lance sighed, releasing Keith’s shoulder. “I know. I know I should be more upset about it than I am, but... I understand why you did what you did. I can’t say I agree with your methods, but I get it. And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been there. Plus, you’re already beating yourself up over it enough for the both of us—ah. Bad word-choice, but you get the point. Right? I’m mad, yeah, but not nearly enough to hate you or push you away or ignore you. OK?”

Keith nodded, overwhelmed. He blinked away tears, not able to meet Lance’s eyes. “You—you can’t keep comforting me after I hurt you.”

“I know. But I will. If you feel better, both of us will.”

Midway through class, Keith silently resolved to do what he’d been waiting to do... all semester, he realized. As he vowed to do it tonight—or maybe tomorrow?—his chest felt lighter and his shoulders as though a weight had been lifted form them. It must have made a noticeable difference because Lance leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Whatcha thinkin’ bout?”

His breath puffed out hot against Keith’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine, but he didn’t move away. He had to clear his throat. “Uh--just that I’m gonna break up with Rolo. Officially. Tonight, I think.”

Lance leaned back to study his expression. Keith wasn’t sure what he saw, but he said, “Good luck, mullet. Whenever you decide to do it, I’ll be there for you afterwards. Promise.”

And Lance reached out to squeeze Keith’s knee comfortingly under the table, sending electric pulses up his leg.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t deserve Lance.

Keith had put it off long enough. All day, actually. But now he had to go home and face the music. With Lance in tow, he went back to the dorms after a day spent in class and then at the mall window-shopping and trying to come up with a clear, concise way to tell Rolo.

Keith paused in front of his door, steeling himself. He felt Lance’s hand on his wrist and turned to face the other man. 

“I’m doing it right now.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

And he went in.

Rolo, as always, was channel surfing from the sofa. He barely spared Keith a glance. “Oh. Hey, babe,” he mumbled.

Keith just wanted to get this over with.

“We need to talk.”

“What about?”

“Us.”

Rolo kept flipping through channels. Irritation bubbled in Keith’s gut.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“I don’t have anything to talk about, so I was waiting for you to go.”

Keith’s face scrunched up, fists balling. “Well in that case.” He unclenched his hands and smoothed out his features. “I’m breaking up with you.”

At this, Rolo powered off the TV and twisted on the couch. “You’re what? But why?”

“It’s... not working out.”

“There’s no way.”

Keith spread his hands as if to say, well, it’s happening, so...

“Well, I don’t want to break up.”

“Tough.”

“No, not ‘tough,’ Keith. If I don’t want to break up, we’re not breaking up.”

Keith balked at him. “You can’t be serious.” He choked out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “All this is making me wonder how I’ve never thought of breaking up before now.”

“I’ll tell you why: you love me and want to be with me.”

Frustration built inside him, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth together. “No, I fucking _don’t_. I’m breaking up with you, and that’s final.”

 _“‘That’s final?’”_ Rolo scoffed. “OK, _mom_.”

Keith forced himself not to snap. Rolo didn’t know. There was no _way_ he knew. He couldn’t’ve meant it like _that_ kind of jab. “I’m getting my stuff.” His voice was deadly quiet.

He didn’t have much, just enough to fill his backpack. Some clothes, a book or two, a few DVDs. Little enough that he wouldn’t have to make more than one trip.

As he walked out, Rolo spoke once more. “Where will you go?”

He shrugged. He was planning on couch-surfing until he could afford his own place. He grabbed the doorknob, opened the door.

“Keith. Look at me.” He did, Rolo’s glacier-blue eyes driving into his own. “Swear to me that this meant nothing to you. That _I_ meant nothing to you.”

Keith shut the door behind himself.

And Lance scrambled to his feet from where he’d been sitting against the opposite wall. He took the stuff from Keith’s hands, setting it on the floor and wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Glad to see you made it in one piece.”

Then why did he feel as though part of him were missing?

“C’mon, you can crash at my place.”

He was too drained to ask for how long, or if it was really OK and Lance wasn’t just doing this out of pity for Keith. 

Lance led him to his bedroom and told him he could put his stuff wherever. He helped Keith into the bed and pulled the blanket up to his chin. Keith felt like a kid again, being tucked in by someone he trusted. But when Lance stepped towards the door, saying he’d take the couch, Keith shot up to sitting.

“No!”

Lance paused, mid-stride. “No what?”

“I-I mean...” Keith swallowed, averted his gaze. “No, you... don’t have to take the couch.”

“But where else would I...?” He trailed off, eyes widening with realization. “Oh,” he squeaked. “Are—are you sure? I have no problem with the couch—”

“I’m sure. I’ve taken your bed enough.”

“Hey, now, I'm not about to make _you_ sleep on the couch.”

“That’s—not what I’m saying...” He didn’t know how to explain himself, his thoughts. He’d never shared a bed with someone before, how was he supposed to know how to ask for it?

“You want me too—and you’ll be—at the same time?” Lance’s face was steadily reddening.

“Yeah.”

…

“Well why didn’t you say so? Gimme a minute.” He grabbed some pyjamas from the dresser, pausing to toss Keith some, as well. “There’s no way you’re wearing jeans if we’re sharing a bed.

He ducked to avoid being hit in the face with PJs. PJs that were soft and smelled like _Lance_ , he thought as he pressed the shirt against his nose, not like Lance’s fruity deodorant. He maneuvered out of his skinny jeans and pulled the fuzzy blue pants on. The hems pooled underneath his feet, wrapping them as he moved back to the bed to retrieve the shirt. He was just pulling it on when he heard a gasp from behind him.

Lance was in the doorway, face beet-red as he slapped a hand over his mouth and fled the scene.

Keith furrowed his brow, then looked down at himself. _Ah._ Taking off his binder after removing his shirt had become second-nature at this point, and he hadn’t even realized he’d done it. He slipped on Lance’s shirt and crept out the open door, into the living area, arms crossed over his chest.

Lance was banging around in the kitchen and—honestly, Keith hadn’t the slightest what he was trying to accomplish.

“Uh... Lance?”

The man’s shoulders shot up to his ears and the banging increased in both volume and frequency.

“Lance—”

He slammed the cupboard, probably not finding what he was searching for.

“ _Lance!_ For fuck’s sake, would you stop!”

He froze, easing another cupboard door shut before facing Keith.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Uh—” His voice is about two octaves too high. “Just, y’know... seeing what I’ve got.”

“Why?”

“In case we’re out of something and I have to pick it up from the store.”

“But why _now_? Why not in the morning?”

“Because Keith!” He didn’t offer any further explanation, instead choosing to fume in silence.

“Are you... freaked out?”

Keith’s words snapped Lance out of his pouting. “Huh?”

“Does it bother you?”

“Does what?”

Keith swallowed hard. “Me? And—and what you saw in the bedroom?”

“What? I don’t get it—what do you have to do with _that_?”

Now it was Keith’s turn to be confused. “Wait what? What are you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?” Lance shot back, not missing a beat.

“Uh--the fact that I was shirtless and you walked in, saw me, and ran out here?”

He almost saw the lightbulb go off above Lance’s head. “Ohhh! Wow, that is so not what I was thinking. There was this massive spider on the wall. I didn’t want you to think I was totally lame—especially after the whole centipede thing—so I wanted to try catching it.”

Laughter bubbled up and out of his throat before he realized what was happening. “Oh my god! You have got to be _kidding_ me! Here I was, thinking you were freaked out that I was trans—” Keith abruptly stopped, slamming his mouth shut. “Uh—I mean—”

“What? Oh, that. That doesn’t bother me, Keith, not at all. You’re still Keith, right? Just a little different underneath that shitty crop-jacket than people might expect.”

Keith narrowed his eyes, though he was secretly ecstatic. “Why do you always have to insult my look...”

Lance chuckled. “I love your look. Now c’mon, you’ve got a spider to get rid of.”

After Keith had caught the spider (“Gross, Keith, I can’t believe you’d touch it with your _bare hands_!”) they sat on the bed, somewhat stiff and awkward.

“Um, so, how do you usually...” Lance gestured at the bed. Keith stared blankly at him. “Y’know, like... what _position_? Back, stomach, side... Spread-eagle, curled-up, soldier...”

“Um... normally? I guess? I don’t know, I just lay down.”

Lance grumbled, getting under the blanket. “Some help _you_ are...”

Keith got under, too, and stared up at the ceiling. He felt Lance’s eyes on him from where the other man lay on his side. Keith felt the weight of a thousand words between them, begging to be spoken. He left all of them untouched.

It was Lance who broke the silence. “So... Are you really OK? After all that with Rolo?”

The darkness made Keith bold. “No... God, no... Finding out he was a snitch was... It was too much for me to handle. And breaking up with him was like... like ripping a piece out of myself that I could’ve saved if I hadn’t been so got-damn _stupid_...” The tears he’d been fighting back welled up in his eyes. “I didn’t love him, but... I definitely more-than-liked him. And that sucks. Every time I've gotten close to someone, they’ve up and left me. My dad, my pa, Shiro, Adam... my father. And even though I _know_ it’s not their fault, I can’t help but feel abandoned. Everyone I’ve ever loved has been snatched away from me somehow, and I can’t handle it anymore...” He covered his face with his hands, turning away from Lance. “But if I try not to get attached to anyone... They’ll leave me either way, and then I’ll be alone, and I _hate_ being alone...” Images from the last time he’d felt truly alone resurfaced in his mind: sitting crouched in a closet attached to a room with enough space for a single bed, holding his breath for fear of _her_ hearing it; a glint of metal against his skin, a pool of red gathering below, because he’d _deserved_ it, it was _his_ fault.

He hardly registered Lance behind him, murmuring soothing nothings into his ear, stroking his arm, trying in vain to calm him down. 

“Keith,” he was murmuring, “Keith, I’m here, I’ll never leave you, I promise.”

He smoothed Keith’s hair back from his tear-soaked face and continued running his fingers through it. As the sobs wracking his body ebbed away, so did the remains of his energy. The last thing he felt before drifting into sleep was a pair of lips pressed behind his ear.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i need to write a chill, filler chapter  
> also me: bUT THE PLOT-
> 
> so here's another plot chapter... hopefully i can write at least part of a chapter that's super chill and nothing serious or important happens but ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> ALSO would y'all be interested in the deleted scenes/outtakes? i'm considering posting them but idk yet so lmk

When he awoke, it was to a warm arm around his waist and even warmer breath against his nape. He sighed and snuggled back into the body pressed against his back, desperately trying to convince sleep not to take him again.

Last night had been just what he’d needed: a good cry and a shoulder to do it on. He still couldn’t believe he’d spilled everything to Lance, the boy who he’d thought had hated him ever since they’d met.

Unfortunately for Keith, he was terrible at debating and his eyes slid back shut soon after they’d opened.

* * *

 

Lance was freaking out.

Sometime in the middle of the night, he guessed, they’d switched positions. Now he was lying on his back with Keith half on top of him, one arm thrown across Lance’s middle and his face smushed into Lance's neck. Could Keith even breathe? That was beside the point. Keith was super clingy when he slept. Lance took a moment to take it all in, and then he was back to freaking out. Not because Keith was using him like some sort of body pillow, no, but because he really needed to pee and he didn’t want to wake Keith. He looked so peaceful and pre—peaceful. Just peaceful. With his face relaxed for once instead of crunched up in anger, he seemed years younger—ew, gross, not in the weird way. Lance would fight demons and aliens if it meant Keith could keep sleeping and looking like _that_ , but not right now. Right now Lance’s lizard needed a walking. 

He grasped Keith’s wrist and gently settled it in between their bodies, then braced his own hands underneath himself to shift out from under the covers. But Keith, of course, had other ideas in mind, as he always did. Stupid fucking emo hipster Keith, always fighting the flow and looking flawlessly edgy while doing it. No, instead of letting Lance point his pink pistol at the porcelain firing range, Keith decided he’d rather cuddle more. His arm flew back up to Lance’s waist and cinched him right against Keith’s chest.  If he’d reeled him in any faster, Lance was sure he’d’ve drained his sleepy weasel right then and there.

Keith’s lips were moving. Lance leaned closer to hear what he was saying.

“Don’ leab me...”

His words brought to mind the events of the previous night. Lance brushed Keith’s hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. “I’m not leaving you, buddy, I just really have to pee.”

Keith’s brow furrowed and he pushed his face into the pillow. “What the fuck, Lance...”

Oh. Lance’s touch must have woken him up.

“You got all octopus on me when I tried to get up.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m not used to sleeping with people.” Keith relinquished his hold on Lance’s body. Lance immediately missed it, but nevertheless he’d never gotten out of bed quicker.

As soon as he’d made his bladder gladder, he went back to his bedroom. Their bedroom? Would this be a nightly occurrence, or had Keith just been in need of a cuddle buddy last night? Lance would gladly be his cuddle buddy every other—

Whoop. Gonna stop that dangerous thought riiight there.

Keith was adorably curled up in the blankets, laying in the spot Lance had vacated. Probably just ‘cause it was warm. Yup, that was it.

Lance took Keith’s spot on the bed, sitting cross-legged as he gazed at the other man, elbow propped on his knee and chin in hand. He was idly wondering if Keith had fallen back to sleep when said man asked, “Hey, where’s Slav? Haven’t seen him in a while.”

“Oh. He’s at some science thing. I don’t know, a contest or a TEDTalk or something? Dunno if he said when he’s getting back.”

A few minutes passed in silence, then Keith rolled onto his other side and shifted so he too was sitting up.

The look he gave Lance was resolute. “We really need to talk, don’t we."

There would be no more dodging this conversation. Better to nip it in the bud, stop it from blossoming into a real problem. Well, a bigger and more real problem than it already was. 

Didn’t mean Lance would comply so easily.

He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “Um—what about, exactly?”

“You know damn well what.”

“Hm... Can’t say that I do.” Was his voice squeaky? No way, it had to be his ears. When was the last time he’d cleaned them again?

Keith was surprisingly calm, all things considered. Lance expected him to be the one blowing up and cussing out the fates, but instead he took control of the situation and made it his bitch. 

“Lance. We’re fucking soulmates.”

No sugarcoating, no beating around the bush. Leave it to Keith to get straight to the point. 

“Uh... right. That we are.”

For a moment both of them just stared at each other, unsure of how to proceed. The jiggling doorknob interrupted their staring contest, followed by a knock on the door and, "Lance? Why did you lock the door?"

Lance suppressed a groan, settling for rolling his eyes. He walked into the main room to answer. "I'm in the middle of a discussion, Slav! Can you hang on a minute?"

Silence. Then:

"Ah, I see. You're with the Mullet Man, aren't you?"

"WHAT? Why would you even say that!"

"My calculations tell me that there is a 92% chance that this so-called 'discussion' you are having is nonplatonic and should therefore not be interrupted. My apologies. I wish you the best of luck." Pause. "But please don't be inviting him over every night; I really would like to get my work done and get some sleep without resorting to coffee, thank you. I'll be on my way now."

Lance couldn't look at Keith, couldn't even face the same direction as him. Both of them were mortified at having been found out so quickly, and by Lance's geeky roommate, no less. Lance sunk to the floor and covered his face with his hands. 

Neither of them said anything— _could_ say anything. Until:

"Oh. My. GOD." Lance's screech was guttural this time, like a truck driving over gravel. "DID HE REALLY JUST SAY THAT. HE FUCKING SAID THAT. HOOOOLY SHIT. I FUCKING HATE MY ROOMMATE."

The hand that came to rest on his shoulder only made him want to curl up and die more. 

"Lance. Lance, look at me."

Nope, he was not going to do that. Nuh-uh. 

"Come on, Lance, please?"

He never could resist that voice. 

Keith smiled gently at him. "You know... Soulmates aren't always romantically involved with one another. There is a such thing as a platonic soulmate. If... that's what you want."

Did Keith... hesitate? Lance shook his head a little, hoping Keith wouldn't notice. But Keith noticed everything. "But..." What was that gleaming in Keith's eyes? It obviously wasn't _hope_... Was it? "Hunk's my platonic soulmate. That spot's already taken."

"Oh. Well, what kind of soulmates are we, then?"

Truth be told, Lance didn't know what he wanted. He had no idea. Sure, he liked Keith, he just didn't know in what way. He knew he wanted to be around Keith, wanted to see him happy and smiling, hear him laughing, but... Did he want to be _with_ Keith? He would leave it up to Future Lance to decide if he weren't being pressed for details right this second. 

"I..." Lance couldn't find the words to describe how he felt about Keith being his soulmate, let alone Keith just being Keith. He blanked on what to say. 

Keith waited patiently, didn't prod Lance, didn't tell him to hurry up. He knew how long it could take to get your thoughts together and in order, especially if you were being grilled on the spot.

Lance sighed. "I—I don't know... I wish I did, really, but... I just don't." He inhaled. Released the breath in a puff of self-deprecating laughter. "God, why can't I just form a sentence and _say it_?" He held up a hand when Keith opened his mouth. "No. I think I got it. Let's just keep going with whatever we have now, and see where it takes us." He met Keith's gaze unflinchingly. "Deal?"

Keith smiled, small. "Deal."

* * *

 

After his and Lance’s discussion, Keith decided he needed some alone time to recharge his social batteries. He couldn’t handle having to hold another conversation or even just sit near someone without potentially having another breakdown or panic attack. When he thought about how he’d left Lance shortly after eating breakfast, guilt swelled in his chest. Lance wanted to be around him, but Keith... He just couldn’t deal right now. Lance seemed to understand, had said he was a phone call away if Keith ever needed anything.

As Keith walked, shoes slapping against the sidewalk, he bothered to pay attention to his surroundings. Not that he didn’t always; today he decided he’d read the store awnings and street signs and take note of who was manning the vendor carts instead of drifting by in a haze broken only by people encroaching on his personal space.

One thing he wished people remembered from school was the personal space bubble. He thought that if people could respect that, he’d be a lot less on edge all the time. But no, passersby just _had_ to pass him by so closely their wind blew his hair back and sent unsettling shudders up his body.

Especially when he passed one stranger in particular and caught her eye. Something shifted in the purple-blue that was so painfully familiar, as if he’d seen it in a dream as a child. Then she was gone, around the corner when he turned to watch her go. Weird. He could’ve sworn he’d recognized her.

He glanced up at the next awning. _Marmora_ _n_ _Coffee._ Every time he passed this hole-in-the-wall café, he had the urge to go inside, but he’d just eaten breakfast... He’d come back another time. Besides, it looked like rush hour in there. Thing was more packed than a Starbucks after the nearest high school let out for the day.

He kept on walking, and when he rounded a corner an indeterminable amount of time later, a park came into view. Huh. Where had that come from? He could’ve sworn he’d been downtown... A glance around his surroundings confirmed that he was not, in fact, downtown anymore. Weird. He hadn’t realized he’d walked so far. He decided to check out the park, go for a little nature stroll and see what kinds of small animals were hiding in the copse of trees in the centre.

In the grassy area, families and couples alike picnicked and dogs ran in circles, chasing birds and squirrels and tennis balls. Despite the volume of other people, Keith found he quite liked being there. 

Walking through the trees was calming, soothing to his soul. The _komorebi_ dappled the pale skin of his face and warmed his cheeks as he tilted his head back. As he moved through the cool air beneath the trees, a word Shiro had taught child him came to mind: _shinrinyoku_. Forest bathing. At the time, he had thought it was a fruitless word to learn. He smiled to himself as Memory-Shiro's forehead vein almost burst from the stress of explaining to Keith why _shinrinyoku_ was important. He thought he understood it now, watching a pair of squirrels chase each other up a tree. He’d needed a forest bath. Badly. He could feel the stress of the past few weeks melting off his body with the cool breeze that rustled the leaves.

He came upon a clearing and sat in the shade of a maple tree on its edge. Only then did he realize how thirsty he was, so he dug through his messenger bag in search of his water bottle, shoving his knife and flannel off to the side.

He didn’t notice the grass-dulled footsteps approaching him until their owner stopped in front of him. His hand, hidden by the flap of his bag, automatically found the hilt of his knife as he glanced up at the sun-silhouetted figure.

“Uh... Can I help you with something, or...?”

They crouched down so they were at eye-level, and Keith saw they were the woman he’d made eye contact with earlier. The one with achingly familiar eyes. He knitted his brow and waited for her to speak, to explain herself.

Her eyes slid over to his bag and she reached a hand out for it, but Keith snatched it away before she moved very far. 

“Are you _mugging_ me? _Right in front of my eyes?_ ”

She fixed her piercing gaze on him once more, eyes narrowed. “Let me see the knife.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I won’t use it against you. I just need to see it.”

“And what the hell for?”

Her hand shot out and ripped Keith’s bag away from him.

“Hey! What the fuck?” He lunged for it, but she held it up out of his reach. She was a good half-foot taller than him.

She flipped open the bag and took out the knife, handing Keith back the bag. “Where did you get this?”

“None of your business.”

She turned her scowl on him and snarled, “Where—did—you—get this?”

He flinched, back against the tree. _Not good, not good, not good_ —

“Jesus fuck, my dad gave it to me! Said it was my mom’s.”

At his words, her violent expression crumpled, replaced by wide eyes and disbelieving tears. “It can’t be... But I can see your father in you.” He was about to ask _what can’t be_ when she added, “Yorak?”

He flinched again at the sudden use of his birth name. He snapped, “No, it’s fucking _Keith_. Whoever the fuck named me _Yorak_ has another thing coming.”

“It was me.”

“What?”

“I named you Yorak.”

“You’re my... mother?”

The realization sent shockwaves through him, leaving him breathless. The reason why her eyes were so familiar sprang to the forefront of his mind—they were _his_ eyes—how hadn’t he seen that?

Her words snapped him out of his brief space-out. “You said your father gave this to you. Where is he now? I would like to see him.”

He gazed at her in surprise. How had she not heard? Surely she had seen in the news all those years ago. “He—he’s dead.”

Her expression slid further, reaching new heights of sorrow Keith hadn’t been aware existed. “He’s... What? How?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, cracked and thick with emotion.

“He got shot over a decade ago...” It was choking him up to think about the day he’d found out, crouched in Shiro’s bedroom, hiding from the lady who’d brought him there.

“No... It can’t be...” The tears that had pooled in her eyes spilled over, and her hands came up to cover her mouth, knife laying forgotten on the ground.

And here, sitting crouched against a tree, tears in his eyes to match the woman in front of him, he thought he could just have this. This moment of shared grief between mother and son.

And he could feel the resentment building, climbing back out from the box he’d buried it in. It made his mouth twist, his brows furrow, his shoulder blades draw together, and her words echo in his mind— 

_I can see your father in you._

—closely followed by his dad’s words, repeated when Keith’s insecurities and past traumas got the best of him— 

_We love you. So much._

—and his pa’s words when he’d first approached his dads about how the name on his birth certificate had been changed before they'd adopted him the second time— 

_We’ll love you no matter what you want to be called. You’ll always be our child._

—and then came the anger. The anger that screamed, “You abandoned me! You and everyone I’ve ever trusted!” It welled up from the deep, deep pit inside of him, the void with which he’d had nothing to fill after having both his parents and Shiro ripped away from him. And maybe it wasn’t fair to blame it all on her, but damn if he didn’t need an outlet and she wasn’t the easiest one to pin it on.

With a start he realized that the screaming he’d thought was internal wasn’t so. The words burned his throat as they launched themselves at her, catapulting like smoldering embers and hitting, with deadly precision, what Keith hoped was her worst fear. Because she’d made his worst fears come true, and fuck if he wasn’t going for blood at this point.

When she reached forward, arms lifting, Keith’s reflexes kicked in to high gear. Because touching meant danger, meant pain, and he didn’t trust her in the slightest. He slid out from under her arm, scooping his knife up, and stood behind her, chest heaving.

“Don’t you dare think you get to play mom after all this time. Don’t you _dare_.” As if to contradict the rage burning inside him, his voice was icy cold to the touch.

“That’s not what I—”

“Then _what_? What else could you have been trying to accomplish?”

“I’m trying to make up for what I did to you, if you’d just give me a chance to explain!”

“I don’t owe you _s_ _hit_. You _abandoned_ me. Do you know how many bad foster families I’ve gone through? How many of them gave me up because I was _too antisocial_ , or _too aggressive_ , or _not responsive enough_? Too fucking many for me to just let some random lady come corner me against a tree and tell me she’s my mother and expect everything to be forgiven. That’s not how it works with me.”

She was shocked into silence by his outburst, which allowed Keith to calm his breathing and get his thoughts back under control. As his heartrate slowed and the adrenaline drained form his system, he became aware of a sharp pain in his finger. Upon glancing down at it, he noticed that a couple fingers had been clenched around the blade of his knife, and not the handle, like he’d originally thought. The image of his blood against a blade sent a shock though his body. It was eerily similar to the times he’d done it himself.

“Yor— _Keith._ I truly am sorry for everything I’ve done to you. Will you please give me an opportunity to explain myself?”

He flicked his eyes up to where she was kneeling on the grass, eyebrows upturned and gaze open, unguarded. Honest. Pleading. He sighed, nodding his assent.

Her shoulders sagged. “I know a great coffee shop. I used to take your father there when work was stressing him out. Peppermint mochas always eased his nerves.”

Keith did remember the sharp scent wafting around the house during the holidays.

Marmoran Coffee. If Keith believed in the Fates, he’d be cursing them out at this moment.

He found a seat while his mother ordered their coffees. While her back was turned, he examined her: strikingly tall, for a female; short ombré hair fading from black to purple, all choppy layers—and when she faced him, mugs in hand—eyes narrowed as if in suspicion, their deep indigo colour hidden behind tan lids; nose flat and chin tapered.

He averted his gaze when she caught it with hers, wrapping his hands around the mug and taking a sip as it was presented to him. The cool peppermint stayed on his tongue long after he’d swallowed.

Then she got right down to the nitty-gritty.

Her name was Krolia Kogane. She was a detective in a town a few hours’ drive from here. Her commanding officer assigned her a case where she had to work undercover as a gang member. That meant that all her information would have to be erased, in case the Galra looked her up to confirm any suspicions. She met his father in the middle of a gang war—though thankfully no one else had gotten to him first, otherwise... Fast forward to late October. She’d just given birth to him when the nurses started talking about a car accident outside the hospital. That’s when she knew Trevor had died. The next day, she’d taken Keith and fled the hospital, dropping him off at the closest police station with a note. She didn’t want him to get taken away by the other gang members. In the Galra, you weren’t allowed to have personal connections; they were a weakness, something to be exploited and destroyed. That was the last thing she wanted for her baby. A couple years later, she’d found out that Trevor hadn’t died in that car accident—the Galra were holding him captive in case they ever needed to use him against her. She freed him as quickly and as quietly as possible, and told him where she’d left their child.

“...and the rest, I’m assuming you know,” she finished.

He could feel everything clicking into place. The dangerous situation his dad had told him about. Why he never spoke of her outside the safety of their own home. Why he was so paranoid whenever he left Keith alone. He’d known the Galra might’ve come for them.

He swallowed around the lump forming in his throat and stood, hands flat on the table. “I... I think I need to leave. I’m sorry.”

She was rapidly shaking her head. “No, not at all. You can reach me at this number if need be.” She scribbled something on a napkin and slid it across the tabletop to him, careful not to touch. “And Keith?”

He met her softly smiling gaze. 

“I’m glad I found you.”


End file.
